tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719485298486668964Fri, 31 Jul 2015 14:18:04 +0000ANanononeraising redheadsLearning to live fully in the moment while mothering and navigating through loss &amp; grief. http://www.rameelinlarson.com/noreply@blogger.com (rameelin)Blogger1379125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719485298486668964.post-1961355517564303530Fri, 31 Jul 2015 04:14:00 +00002015-07-31T09:18:04.591-05:00Happy 9th Birthday Nora [a letter]<div style="text-align: center;">Happy Birthday Nora!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Cn8euooB3R8/VbrawkcyJlI/AAAAAAAAgKw/tf1qPI_BIlw/s640/blogger-image--227958510.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Cn8euooB3R8/VbrawkcyJlI/AAAAAAAAgKw/tf1qPI_BIlw/s640/blogger-image--227958510.jpg" width="640">&nbsp;</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Today you are nine years old!&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Every year on this day I write you a letter to tell you just how special you are and how incredibly loved by me you are.&nbsp; This year is no different.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Only it also is very different.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">First of all, at the cost that you may be reading this when you are 30 years old with your very own 9 year old at home, I want to start by telling you a few very honest truths.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>#1:&nbsp; I love you but...you and me?&nbsp; Yeah, we don't always get along.&nbsp;&nbsp;</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Especially not in the way that I thought we would 9 years ago, as I anticipated holding you for the very first time.&nbsp; All I could think of and dream about then was what your soft skin would feel like, what your beautiful hair would look like (mine), what your big eyes would look like (mine), what your plumped up lips would look like (Aunt Jeni's).&nbsp; All I could imagine was being your mom, holding your hand; you looking up at me with adoration and me looking down at you in total, majestic awe. &nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">There have been many times that you have looked at me in those ways and many more that I have looked at you from across the room and felt exactly like I knew I would.&nbsp; But there have been many, many times where it also hasn't been that way.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>#2:&nbsp; I'm learning that you and I are very alike and yet so incredibly different...</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>[and that's ok]. </b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">You are a very smart, articulate, determined little girl.&nbsp; You have an answer for everything and you know how to get what you want.&nbsp; You don't apologize often, are hard headed and get angry quickly.&nbsp; You are less affectionate now than I dreamed you would be.&nbsp; Sadly, I think life has made that so and not your actual self.&nbsp; But when you need me, you call my name and as I always dreamed I would be, I am here to come running.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>#3:&nbsp; Life now isn't quite like I pictured it would be for you 9 years ago.&nbsp;&nbsp;</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>[and that's also ok].</b> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">When I was about to deliver you I would never have imagined that I would no longer be married to your daddy.&nbsp; I want you to know, baby, that you are here on this earth because I wanted so badly to be a mommy but also because I very much loved your daddy.&nbsp; We were very young, lived very far away and we really did the best we could.&nbsp; Even now I think I can speak for both of us when I say that you truly were our dream come true.&nbsp; You have always been and will always be my greatest gift.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">You are the little girl who made me a mom!&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp; You are a really lucky little girl in the way that you now have 'extra' people in your life who love you really well.&nbsp; Kendall and Chris have both played and will continue to play really important roles in your life.&nbsp; Please continue to let them do that, baby.&nbsp; They love you in ways that only they can and I think it's very special that you get to experience that kind of expansion in your heart.&nbsp; My one true hope is that in twenty years you will be able to look back and feel grateful for the childhood that you had; that you will feel nothing but enriched because of all the love that was shown to you.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>#4:&nbsp; At almost nine years old you like to be alone a lot.&nbsp;</b>&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">You have learned to cope and grieve through many of life's changes in the last several years but I can truly say that on this exact day, you are the happiest I have seen you in a very long time.&nbsp; I am most proud of how you have learned what you need from yourself and others around you and how you've been able to show us.&nbsp; Although I wish that life would have been much different for you, I see the character of a young woman that most adults never achieve.&nbsp; I see you becoming someone who will be both intellectual and empathetic.&nbsp; I sit back and I watch you in all situations and I am amazed at how you handle yourself.&nbsp; You are poised and wise beyond your years and that is a true gift, Nora.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;You are about to go into the 4th grade in public school, which was not part of my life plan for you either.&nbsp; But you get straight A's, you work really hard, you have loved your teachers, you have several good friends and I am just so proud of you!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">You enjoy riding horses, playing minecraft, NOT playing with your brother, spying on adult conversations, kittens, driving the mower out on the farm, reading and doing art.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Two months ago your baby sister went to Heaven.&nbsp; You have been sad but you have also felt so much relief.&nbsp; You've both expressed it and shown it.&nbsp; I have felt grateful and proud that you are able to express that emotion and I continue to pray that you never feel guilty for it.&nbsp; I am thankful for the sister that you were to Mabel but I'm also so grateful for the mom that I get to be for you in the coming years.&nbsp; We did a really great job together taking care of your sister here on earth, baby, and I believe that one day God will honor us for that in Heaven.&nbsp; I can see that you believe that too.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The last few years have been really hard years in your life.&nbsp; There have been so many changes and so many heartbreaks.&nbsp; You have been angry and sad and quiet and loud and aggressive and gentle.&nbsp; You have been to talk therapy and art therapy and then suddenly the horses became therapy.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And then, even before I knew it, after so much worrying about you, life itself has settled inside of your being and you are ok.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And finally, knowing that you are, I am too.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I want you to know how very much I love you.&nbsp; I want you to know that I will always be at your side in this life.&nbsp; I want you to know that in me, you have an unconditional source of strength and support; encouragement and compassion.&nbsp; I want you to know that I am now capable of being the mom that I was destined and created to be all along (I just needed your sister's help to truly be me).&nbsp; I want you to know that I will give you the best of me, and all of me in everything you need me for.&nbsp; I want you to know that you will not have to walk one day alone in your life, as long as I am living.&nbsp; And I want you to know, baby, that I am so proud of who you are.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">You love God and people really well, and I pray that of everything you have had to learn in the last several years, these would be the key things that stick with you. &nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">God &amp; People. &nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">That's what matters here, Nora. &nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And you matter so much to me and to so many people, baby.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I want to tell you one last thing on this 9th birthday, on the off chance that you're sitting in your room googling my blog right now and reading:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">As I've told you every birthday since you were born, your name means 'light.'</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I gave you the name Nora for a very specific purpose; because I already knew when you were growing inside of me that you would be a light in this world for many, and especially for me. &nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And you so are, Nora!&nbsp; You so are.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The Bible tells us that when a light shines in the darkness, the darkness cannot understand it.&nbsp; I pray that you would leave this world perplexed by the amount of light you shine, little girl!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Happiest Birthday baby. &nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">You are beautiful, funny, smart, and perfect in every way.&nbsp; I love thinking about who you are becoming and what life has in store for you.&nbsp; God's plan has always been and continues to be remarkable over your life.&nbsp; I am the luckiest mom in the world to be yours.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I love you--</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Mommy</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div>http://www.rameelinlarson.com/2015/07/happy-9th-birthday-nora-letter.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (rameelin)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719485298486668964.post-6715164714521318574Wed, 29 Jul 2015 04:21:00 +00002015-07-29T06:44:38.002-05:002 months.<div align="center">"If ever there is a tomorrow when we're not together, there is something you must always remember: you are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think, but the most important thing is, even if we're apart, I'll always be with you."</div><div align="center">--Winnie the Pooh [A.A. Milne]</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-IK8FTJIRekM/VbhDKU3-NSI/AAAAAAAAgKc/fB3RpSlKx7c/s640/blogger-image--634377567.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="638" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-IK8FTJIRekM/VbhDKU3-NSI/AAAAAAAAgKc/fB3RpSlKx7c/s640/blogger-image--634377567.jpg" width="640"></a></div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Time hasn't made any sense to me since the moment your heart stopped beating and mine continued.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Two months ago today.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I suppose, at least.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I'm at a weird mental place where, just like when you have a new baby and do not know when to start telling people they are 5 months old versus 19 weeks, I'm not really sure if now is the time by months.&nbsp; But to think of months as in plural even&nbsp;catches vomit&nbsp;in my throat.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Today you have been gone 8 weeks and 5 days.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">But 2 months on the 29th.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Either way, two months without you and it feels like an entire lifetime.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">This week has been my worst.&nbsp; The missing you is horrific.&nbsp; The other grief things--they haven't come and I'm not sure that they will.&nbsp; After all, I grieved so hard and so long for you before now.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I want to rest as I know you are resting.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">But my actual soul is in desperate pain.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I went to the Dr. this week, trying to take care of myself.&nbsp; That feels foreign and strange and selfish.&nbsp; My back has been hurting so bad for weeks and other very hormonal things were happening.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">All in all, there is nothing to be found.&nbsp; Nothing except shoulders that are used to bearing your weight and a body that is shifting from the lack thereof.&nbsp; Nothing but empty arms with an ache so big nothing could fill it.&nbsp; Nothing but an actual hole through my heart where your physical-ness used to fit.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">It feels as if I'm weaning a newborn baby from nursing or dare I compare this to what a mother may feel like when she leaves the hospital after delivering a stillborn babe; womb and heart and arms empty.&nbsp; Though you were outside of my body for five years, you never left me.&nbsp; And your vacancy has consumed my<em> entire</em> physical being.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">My back throbs out like a heartbeat, pulsing low and deep.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I long for yours next to mine.&nbsp; It's sickening.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Each night I lay and feel it and I can't help but curse the grief that has overtaken me.&nbsp; And there's nothing I can do to stop it.&nbsp; As always, a person must make way for grief.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">It's an ocean of turmoil and turbulence with&nbsp;triggers that are both inevitable and&nbsp;unpredictable.&nbsp; And it's also back pain that comes from nowhere in the dead of night; a vivid and dark reminder of your absence in the very next room.&nbsp; What the world sees as a&nbsp;mom who is 'coping' really well, my own&nbsp;body tells me otherwise.&nbsp; Grief reminds me that he'll show up wherever he can get his hands on me.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">...</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I went to the cemetery alone last night.&nbsp; That's not something I usually do because quite honestly, I feel you with me; close--&nbsp;so close, all the time.&nbsp; But last night I screamed and cried and groaned with such force that my body was wracked with agony afterwards.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">None of this feels real.&nbsp; And yet it so is.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Some days it feels like none of it happened at all.&nbsp; And it so did.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">This is&nbsp;a horrible nightmare to have to wake up to every single day.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Every single day for the rest of my life...without you.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">But as always, the confliction is my joy FOR you.&nbsp; My love and hope and selflessness FOR you, my baby.&nbsp; For the race you ran.&nbsp; And the reward you received.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Well done, my girl.&nbsp; Well done, indeed.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">---</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I miss so much our morning routine; your bright eyes, and dried-spit mouth.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I miss so much your soft feet and I miss pausing throughout my day just to unzip your jammies to &nbsp;free them so I could smell and you could giggle. </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I miss the pauses in general; the hour it took to feed you 6 ounces just to turn around and do it again another hour later.&nbsp; The quiet moments with you that were ours alone.&nbsp; I miss it so much.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I miss talking baby talk and watching you close your eyes and smile with your big tongue out.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I miss your grunting. </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">And though it's sad and was so unfair, I miss your jerking limbs.&nbsp; Your arms that tapped strong since you were a new baby&nbsp;and your legs that were bendy and long, draped across me and kicking.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I miss you with Nora and I miss you with Braden. (Oh how they miss you too.)</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I miss Heidi laying beside you in your bouncer on your bad days where seizures were unending and she knew.&nbsp; I&nbsp;miss the cat batting&nbsp;at your kicking, jerking&nbsp;feet, thinking that you were playing [and you laughing because I think you maybe were.]</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I miss your car seat and&nbsp;miss having to adjust the rearview mirror to check to see that your head hasn't fallen forward.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I very much miss our routine.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Doing your meds, calling your nurses, hospice visits, tube changes.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Oh I miss it all. </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I miss standing outside of&nbsp;the French doors to your bedroom&nbsp;and watching you sleep under your perfect weighted blanket.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I miss you with your 'da.'&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I miss you with Maggie and on Nanny's bed.&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I miss&nbsp;Aunt Jeni walking in and saying "Hi bebeeee."&nbsp;or Uncle Jake saying, "Hi Mabes," in only the ways that they can.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Sometimes I miss you so terribly I think I might die myself.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">But I don't die baby.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I am very much alive here without you.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">...</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Nora's birthday is coming in a few days.&nbsp; My heart breaks for hers that she is turning 9 without you.&nbsp; Just how can it be?&nbsp; My mind cannot make sense of it.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">We are leaving to go on vacation next week.&nbsp; I am so looking</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;forward to taking Nora and Braden to the places that we took you last year.&nbsp; That was the very best week the three of us ever shared together!&nbsp; I hope to make new memories too; the kind that will enrich and grow our family in ways that will make&nbsp;us strong together.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp; But learning to go forward in life; learning how to go out into a world that you are no longer living in and do those things-oh, that is so hard.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">...</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">As I knew I would, I am hearing so many cliche' sayings about life and death and time and healing and just about everything in the world that people think they should say to make a grieving person feel better.&nbsp; And as a mom who is truly living with grief and mourning while also&nbsp;feeling true joy, all I can say on this two month anniversary of Heaven&nbsp;is this:</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Time does not heal all wounds and in my opinion, it should not.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Time is nothing in comparison to the love I have for you or the love we share[d] while you were alive with me.&nbsp; Time means absolutely nothing now and&nbsp;it meant very little even then.&nbsp; I learned to outlive time by my excessive&nbsp;love for you.&nbsp; I learned to squeeze a lifetime of&nbsp;joy and abundance into a very 'short' amount of time&nbsp;by the world's standard of measurement.&nbsp;&nbsp;Time now just&nbsp;means that I got to wake up today and feel sad that so much of it has passed since holding, or smelling you.&nbsp; It means&nbsp;that I now get to count down to the next hard day that will make me incredibly sad to be without you again.&nbsp; But it doesn't take away from the joy I have from mothering you, knowing you, loving you, having you.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;"><strong>Time is not a thief of those very critical things.</strong>&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">The more time that passes, the more I miss you-for sure.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">The more time that passes the harder this is-absolutely.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">But that's because I shared my entire life; my every detail with you ALL THE TIME when you were alive.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">And I long so deeply for the day when time is nothing more than a blink because forever will be our true reality.&nbsp; Right now, eternity feels like an eternity away and that&nbsp;seems scary and hard and unfair.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Today, I feel like I want to spend a lot of time in bed, giving in to&nbsp;the deep need to <em>just let myself ache for you.&nbsp; </em>Which I do.&nbsp; I ache and I long and when I need to, I really do give in.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">The sorrow is&nbsp;so unbearable at times, it just honestly overtakes me.&nbsp; All of us, actually.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">My entire being literally breaks and reemerges differently at the memories that flood my mind without permission.&nbsp; Because truly, if I had my way, I would throw up a wall and not&nbsp;dive&nbsp;into them&nbsp;deeper than I feel I can handle.&nbsp; But that isn't how this works.&nbsp; <em>I still have no control</em>.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">The God of this journey has always been and will always be in the lead.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">In your life, in your death, in the morning, in the night, in the hurt, in the joy.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">It's both the most intimate and most irritating thing I've ever encountered.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Oh baby, I&nbsp;sure miss you.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I'm a jumbled mess of unrest and unthinking.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">You are sure everywhere...and yet you are&nbsp;not.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">My heart yearns for you, my girl.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I love you, baby.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div>http://www.rameelinlarson.com/2015/07/2-months.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (rameelin)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719485298486668964.post-644460424053028389Sun, 26 Jul 2015 03:12:00 +00002015-07-25T22:48:07.863-05:00Mabel's Birthday Tree Plant<div style="text-align: center;">This year her birthday fell just 6 weeks after the day she died; the day when I felt like I re-birthed her in a sense.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">July 16 2010, God handed me the most precious girl and fully trusted me with her life.</div><div style="text-align: center;">May 29, 2015, I handed God back His girl, fully trusting that her life on earth was complete and that it is being lived out eternally with Him.</div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">Never has a more spiritual encounter been exchanged between the living God and a human, of this I am sure.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-59qtvJk6E8Y/VbOvgcICK-I/AAAAAAAAgCQ/A49yb5JcnNE/s1600/IMG_5293.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-59qtvJk6E8Y/VbOvgcICK-I/AAAAAAAAgCQ/A49yb5JcnNE/s400/IMG_5293.JPG" width="266" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pdqHMIKviB4/VbOvobul8_I/AAAAAAAAgCo/SuzTvrRPerY/s1600/IMG_5294.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pdqHMIKviB4/VbOvobul8_I/AAAAAAAAgCo/SuzTvrRPerY/s400/IMG_5294.JPG" width="266" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I thought long and hard about Mabel's birthday this year.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I, of course, want it to always be a day that we remember, acknowledge and celebrate the life that our girl lived.&nbsp; For almost 5 years she was alive here with us!&nbsp; She laughed and cried and loved in ways that none of us will ever do; not purely.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But I also knew that I wanted this particular day to be something special.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I kept saying that I want there to be one thing that, if we choose to carry it on, we will always be able to, especially for the kids who loved her and have to continue their childhoods without her.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">For that purpose, yellow balloons will likely always&nbsp;be part of our&nbsp;celebration surrounding Mabel's birthday.&nbsp; But beyond&nbsp;that I also know deep down that I will want to put much more&nbsp;emphasis on her Heavenly birthdays, celebrating that day when she was set free from this earth and her disease to live forever with Jesus.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Q7CWc70ohGo/VbOvg0zH17I/AAAAAAAAgCY/H_FyA6U25ho/s1600/IMG_5287.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Q7CWc70ohGo/VbOvg0zH17I/AAAAAAAAgCY/H_FyA6U25ho/s640/IMG_5287.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">In my life, I have always felt the most peace when I am focused on the earth.&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;Usually I'm knee deep in a flower or vegetable garden or in the middle of a back country road running&nbsp;fast in the summer heat.&nbsp; I am most&nbsp;tuned into myself, my&nbsp;children,&nbsp;God, life, the world, and others&nbsp;when I can feel the presence of everything holy around me that is simply 'being.'&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PcIPVSOOjMM/VbOvglZJwYI/AAAAAAAAgCU/WdEnp5-zuf4/s1600/IMG_5286.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PcIPVSOOjMM/VbOvglZJwYI/AAAAAAAAgCU/WdEnp5-zuf4/s640/IMG_5286.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;So when my mom sent the text a week prior to Mabel's birthday suggesting we plant a tree in her honor, my heart literally jumped.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Of course!&nbsp; How fitting.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">Do you know how many trees I have walked this child by in all the days of her life?&nbsp; Do you know how many quilts have laid out in the damp grass under large trees with her long, tired, jerking body draped across them?&nbsp; Do you know how many trees have propped my own&nbsp;tired body up when I have leaned against them or pounded my fist upon them in the middle of an agonizing run in a fit or a plea bargain session with God over her life?&nbsp; Do you know how many trees have been planted in the honor of someone I love?&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">A couple actually.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">So this&nbsp;seemed just perfect.&nbsp; </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5iOCJRMV1OQ/VbOvozJT64I/AAAAAAAAgCs/CNH6sa3VTX8/s1600/IMG_5298.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5iOCJRMV1OQ/VbOvozJT64I/AAAAAAAAgCs/CNH6sa3VTX8/s400/IMG_5298.JPG" width="266" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-deHoOBYL9Ss/VbOvpOJysBI/AAAAAAAAgC0/l8aglCq3lVA/s1600/IMG_5303.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-deHoOBYL9Ss/VbOvpOJysBI/AAAAAAAAgC0/l8aglCq3lVA/s400/IMG_5303.JPG" width="266" /></a></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YpdpxHLxqOs/VbOvx27UIaI/AAAAAAAAgDI/JGcZSU20V6E/s1600/IMG_5304.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YpdpxHLxqOs/VbOvx27UIaI/AAAAAAAAgDI/JGcZSU20V6E/s640/IMG_5304.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;So I sent out the group text and told our village that on Mabel's birthday, late in the evening, at my parent's home; the home where I was born and raised, deep in the country and deep in the hurt-</div><div style="text-align: center;">we would dig deep in the earth and plant roots for our girl.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">Every single reply was draped in "how perfect!", "this is amazing", "I love this!"</div><div style="text-align: center;">Every single one of my lifetime friends who sat with and walked beside me in the hardest days of my life would join our family to do the most humbling thing we could think to do for Mabel.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">We would plant new life.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-v_cLQ19n504/VbOvyJP-ADI/AAAAAAAAgDM/sUX8PDRhsfg/s1600/IMG_5305.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-v_cLQ19n504/VbOvyJP-ADI/AAAAAAAAgDM/sUX8PDRhsfg/s640/IMG_5305.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;So we picked a tree, a beautiful "Autumn Brilliance Maple," that will turn a stunning shade of red in the fall.&nbsp; My brother and Chris went together to pick it up.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">In preparation for Mabel's birthday, I had special gifts made for my parents, Jeni and Jake.&nbsp; This would be the night that I would share with them what I had made uniquely for each of them.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kdFxD_WYQok/VbOvwU3r3mI/AAAAAAAAgDA/-zxu2DuB0ck/s1600/IMG_5308.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kdFxD_WYQok/VbOvwU3r3mI/AAAAAAAAgDA/-zxu2DuB0ck/s640/IMG_5308.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jWrvUHisFV8/VbOv2o036YI/AAAAAAAAgDY/U3zbSDf31Ac/s1600/IMG_5310.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jWrvUHisFV8/VbOv2o036YI/AAAAAAAAgDY/U3zbSDf31Ac/s640/IMG_5310.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I had a rosary made for each of my parents out of the flowers from Mabel's funeral.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My dad's is green and white and my mom's is yellow and white.&nbsp; They each have a special bead at the bottom that is used in grief and healing.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">These gifts are priceless and these photos of my dad are as well.&nbsp; His hands, so dirty, bring back such vivid childhood memories of the kind of father he was and still, to this day, is.&nbsp; He has worked hard for this family every day of his life.&nbsp; He raised girls, and later in life a boy but he did so by being good to people and working hard with his hands.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">He would come in from work each night, stand at the kitchen sink and scrub his fingernails raw but never did the sign of his day truly fade.&nbsp; These are the hands that held my girl when she was born, on the really hard days when I needed a break, every day that he could in between, and on the day that she died.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">These are the hands that make me feel safe.&nbsp; That remind me I'm loved.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">That dug deep in the ground in his own yard to plant a tree for our girl on her birthday.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GEhG1BLaZsM/VbOv4FXN54I/AAAAAAAAgDg/T0bRxInXddg/s1600/IMG_5320.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GEhG1BLaZsM/VbOv4FXN54I/AAAAAAAAgDg/T0bRxInXddg/s400/IMG_5320.JPG" width="266" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ew4FasO59WA/VbOv7V_xvbI/AAAAAAAAgDw/16_AHntoDjc/s1600/IMG_5322.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ew4FasO59WA/VbOv7V_xvbI/AAAAAAAAgDw/16_AHntoDjc/s400/IMG_5322.JPG" width="265" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">Other gifts were&nbsp;exchanged this night as well.&nbsp; I gave Jake a keychain made of Mabel's flowers for his truck and my sister, a rearview mirror piece and also a&nbsp;special bouquet bead&nbsp;that she can clip to her flowers&nbsp;for her upcoming wedding.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;My mom&nbsp;gave me a special broach that she&nbsp;made herself with locks of Mabel's hair tucked inside.&nbsp; It knocked the literal air out of my body when I saw it.&nbsp; On my really bad days I curl up tight in my bed and weep at the longing for her messy curls.&nbsp; It's a tiny, beautiful, priceless gift.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">----</div><div style="text-align: center;">So after gifts were given and everyone had gathered, even at the hands of amazing technology...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-07rADxZ99eA/VbOv4HNYCyI/AAAAAAAAgDk/daeaINGH39M/s1600/IMG_5311.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-07rADxZ99eA/VbOv4HNYCyI/AAAAAAAAgDk/daeaINGH39M/s400/IMG_5311.JPG" width="266" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-p5HZWRYn8A8/VbOwBv-gRWI/AAAAAAAAgEA/TBg67-46RrI/s1600/IMG_5324.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-p5HZWRYn8A8/VbOwBv-gRWI/AAAAAAAAgEA/TBg67-46RrI/s400/IMG_5324.JPG" width="266" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">We were ready to begin.</div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">Nora started by reading a beautiful, articulate speech about her sister and this special day.&nbsp; Her words flowed eloquently and perfectly.&nbsp; It was the bravest moment I've ever encountered.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-io74sG9Ev6U/VbOwFnxDxCI/AAAAAAAAgEQ/GOh_crYh_XQ/s1600/IMG_5329.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-io74sG9Ev6U/VbOwFnxDxCI/AAAAAAAAgEQ/GOh_crYh_XQ/s400/IMG_5329.JPG" width="266" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KrQ_t-h4cVc/VbOwKi63OCI/AAAAAAAAgEc/4PK7IAhyano/s1600/IMG_5333.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KrQ_t-h4cVc/VbOwKi63OCI/AAAAAAAAgEc/4PK7IAhyano/s400/IMG_5333.JPG" width="266" /></a></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jAVxwYV-ZLY/VbOwKs1W4pI/AAAAAAAAgEY/lqY-bKg0n2I/s1600/IMG_5334.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jAVxwYV-ZLY/VbOwKs1W4pI/AAAAAAAAgEY/lqY-bKg0n2I/s640/IMG_5334.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KPCutVxtCyE/VbOwLh0Hx2I/AAAAAAAAgEo/_HOzr80vvlI/s1600/IMG_5337.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KPCutVxtCyE/VbOwLh0Hx2I/AAAAAAAAgEo/_HOzr80vvlI/s640/IMG_5337.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2FTBwGNvWeo/VbOwTExonpI/AAAAAAAAgEw/5vlJb20NtZA/s1600/IMG_5339.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2FTBwGNvWeo/VbOwTExonpI/AAAAAAAAgEw/5vlJb20NtZA/s640/IMG_5339.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">And then it was time to start.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">Nora had made it very clear that if everyone was going to be with us on Mabel's birthday to plant a tree that she and her brother were at least going to do the "first dig."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-e030QWsRAx8/VbOwT8jATqI/AAAAAAAAgE4/-AoKKt8TAnc/s1600/IMG_5341.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-e030QWsRAx8/VbOwT8jATqI/AAAAAAAAgE4/-AoKKt8TAnc/s400/IMG_5341.JPG" width="266" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6zD9BE0cmzo/VbOwah9TQHI/AAAAAAAAgFI/sDsyxj_V59E/s1600/IMG_5350.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6zD9BE0cmzo/VbOwah9TQHI/AAAAAAAAgFI/sDsyxj_V59E/s400/IMG_5350.JPG" width="266" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QMCZoqGnYLk/VbOwV6YaaMI/AAAAAAAAgFA/tIIi0trXCjM/s1600/IMG_5344.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QMCZoqGnYLk/VbOwV6YaaMI/AAAAAAAAgFA/tIIi0trXCjM/s640/IMG_5344.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HZhO4W8LEGU/VbOwcw-IETI/AAAAAAAAgFY/fpkaxgf-y-A/s1600/IMG_5356.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HZhO4W8LEGU/VbOwcw-IETI/AAAAAAAAgFY/fpkaxgf-y-A/s640/IMG_5356.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;But soon I watched as all the kids around us started to jump in for their turn.&nbsp; I watched them dig and dig, sweat, and toil hard for what felt like forever.&nbsp; They took such pride in what they were doing and why they were doing it.&nbsp; But even in these moments I'm not quite sure they know...</div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;&nbsp; <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ysvXLbxHjrc/VbOwcaIP3FI/AAAAAAAAgFQ/CDJgNPKyNjc/s1600/IMG_5358.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ysvXLbxHjrc/VbOwcaIP3FI/AAAAAAAAgFQ/CDJgNPKyNjc/s400/IMG_5358.JPG" width="266" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cWI_LPU-3n8/VbOwiB_h_jI/AAAAAAAAgFg/G4tex0J1gi8/s1600/IMG_5360.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cWI_LPU-3n8/VbOwiB_h_jI/AAAAAAAAgFg/G4tex0J1gi8/s400/IMG_5360.JPG" width="266" /></a></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npCXEYJMj20/VbOwkQ4vaFI/AAAAAAAAgFs/Tbky_YjkWxQ/s1600/IMG_5369.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-npCXEYJMj20/VbOwkQ4vaFI/AAAAAAAAgFs/Tbky_YjkWxQ/s640/IMG_5369.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;Harper, Shawn, Weston, Kyleigh, Cole, Chloe, William, Mikey, Collin, Millie, Kaleb, Kait, Ryan, Nora &amp; Braden:</div><div style="text-align: center;">If you never remember anything else about this life I want you to remember this.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">God loves you and Mabel loved you.</div><div style="text-align: center;">She loved each and every one of you.&nbsp; You were each special to her in your own ways.&nbsp; Every single one of you could make her smile.&nbsp; Every single one of you could make her feel safe.&nbsp; Every single one of you helped me take such good care of our girl!&nbsp; You should feel incredibly proud of yourselves for that.&nbsp; What you did on this night, her birthday, was work together for something that mattered to you.&nbsp; You worked together to plant a tree in Mabel's honor but more importantly in her memory.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lpHb3An8bKM/VbOwj_7oaLI/AAAAAAAAgFo/3YGX3ky8OI8/s1600/IMG_5370.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lpHb3An8bKM/VbOwj_7oaLI/AAAAAAAAgFo/3YGX3ky8OI8/s640/IMG_5370.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oWVXmcdmFpQ/VbOwoc1gd4I/AAAAAAAAgF4/4GNYB5kj_bo/s1600/IMG_5372.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oWVXmcdmFpQ/VbOwoc1gd4I/AAAAAAAAgF4/4GNYB5kj_bo/s640/IMG_5372.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--7yMOCO3Qfo/VbOwq0erzlI/AAAAAAAAgGA/piyBhHyqVm0/s1600/IMG_5374.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--7yMOCO3Qfo/VbOwq0erzlI/AAAAAAAAgGA/piyBhHyqVm0/s640/IMG_5374.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;Kids, I want you to know that this tree will always stand, just like God's love for you and just like His word.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">When you are having a bad day and you miss Mabel hard, this will be a place of refuge where you can come and weep--anytime.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">When you are a teenager and you do not want to be with us, your parents, this will be a safe place where you can park your car and feel angry--anytime.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">When you fall in love for the first time and Nora, when you decide to get married, this is a place where you can vow to love a man who will know your sister because we will be sure he does.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">When you are grown adults about to have children of your own and you feel afraid of what the future will hold, this will be a place where you can come, see the growth, and know that it all truly is ok.</div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">When you are old and gray and your own kids are grown with kids of their own, I pray this is a place that you will bring them to tell them of the little girl that changed your life, altered your heart, and led you to the cross time and time again.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JB6UonYJ4zM/VbOwstlzTvI/AAAAAAAAgGI/_C6SfVC67s4/s1600/IMG_5377.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JB6UonYJ4zM/VbOwstlzTvI/AAAAAAAAgGI/_C6SfVC67s4/s640/IMG_5377.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-niRKk-Q7oSY/VbOwwGbVjQI/AAAAAAAAgGQ/8qhZamF4skE/s1600/IMG_5395.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-niRKk-Q7oSY/VbOwwGbVjQI/AAAAAAAAgGQ/8qhZamF4skE/s640/IMG_5395.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;A tree is not just a tree, kids.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">A tree is one great promise of life.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">Just one.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/---fSkO-bILE/VbOw0ur229I/AAAAAAAAgGg/rhyhzEVCmgs/s1600/IMG_5396.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/---fSkO-bILE/VbOw0ur229I/AAAAAAAAgGg/rhyhzEVCmgs/s640/IMG_5396.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4shi5IHmzF4/VbOwz-9JyGI/AAAAAAAAgGY/GIE4zGhVAcs/s1600/IMG_5397.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4shi5IHmzF4/VbOwz-9JyGI/AAAAAAAAgGY/GIE4zGhVAcs/s400/IMG_5397.JPG" width="266" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lhMNGr5rOgs/VbOw2BteDWI/AAAAAAAAgGs/zHt6k1C8pNc/s1600/IMG_5400.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lhMNGr5rOgs/VbOw2BteDWI/AAAAAAAAgGs/zHt6k1C8pNc/s400/IMG_5400.JPG" width="266" /></a></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Yf_5mGWqbg0/VbOw4IuRASI/AAAAAAAAgHI/v59ZphGfnMI/s1600/IMG_5404.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Yf_5mGWqbg0/VbOw4IuRASI/AAAAAAAAgHI/v59ZphGfnMI/s640/IMG_5404.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aVURIv-9DZI/VbOw2KBONFI/AAAAAAAAgGo/dK3vBNZD6nA/s1600/IMG_5407.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aVURIv-9DZI/VbOw2KBONFI/AAAAAAAAgGo/dK3vBNZD6nA/s200/IMG_5407.JPG" width="133" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RB11RG_tRDU/VbOw3W_GAUI/AAAAAAAAgG4/aId4KGs5Q7U/s1600/IMG_5409.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RB11RG_tRDU/VbOw3W_GAUI/AAAAAAAAgG4/aId4KGs5Q7U/s200/IMG_5409.JPG" width="123" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-06YgQgYgscI/VbOw3ke3n1I/AAAAAAAAgG8/TXg1GXgRXO0/s1600/IMG_5411.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-06YgQgYgscI/VbOw3ke3n1I/AAAAAAAAgG8/TXg1GXgRXO0/s200/IMG_5411.JPG" width="133" /></a></div><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fcFLDwe9qPA/VbOw_yUOgCI/AAAAAAAAgHU/yVVAAk7qZxk/s1600/IMG_5413.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fcFLDwe9qPA/VbOw_yUOgCI/AAAAAAAAgHU/yVVAAk7qZxk/s640/IMG_5413.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-csJOTls8OGY/VbOxADjEH-I/AAAAAAAAgHc/-Np4ubveZpA/s1600/IMG_5414.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-csJOTls8OGY/VbOxADjEH-I/AAAAAAAAgHc/-Np4ubveZpA/s640/IMG_5414.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;To see the people that I love surrounding us in these moments is, of course, what keeps me going.&nbsp; They love deeply, powerfully, endlessly.&nbsp; They give up so much to give back to others.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">These people know God and know Him in all the right ways.&nbsp; They are the kind of people that you want at your side when your child is no longer with you because they uplift you when there's a lot of heavy lifting.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">They stay up late when her hours are numbered and your sleep must come.</div><div style="text-align: center;">They walk up steep driveways in really high heels just to wrap their arms around you and tell you they're near.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">They find babysitters for their own&nbsp;so that they can babysit yours for you.</div><div style="text-align: center;">They make protein bites out of peanut butter, oats and butterscotch that literally sustain your life.</div><div style="text-align: center;">They fly across the country in the middle of the night in the nick of time.&nbsp; In the nick of time.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">They baptize your dying daughter in your arms, saying 'Our Fathers' and 'Hail Mary's,' shaking and weeping with love for her.&nbsp; And for you.</div><div style="text-align: center;">They pick out funeral flowers, pick up funeral balloons and somehow manage to keep you very tightly wrapped up in the&nbsp;privacy you so deeply need and deserve.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">All of this, after they love her very much like you do.</div><div style="text-align: center;">But they put aside their missing and their pain and their sadness because seeing you through is all that matters in these life-changing moments.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IzzzeCj2c5A/VbOw_5_n1iI/AAAAAAAAgHQ/_lcAk_3_fxg/s1600/IMG_5419.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IzzzeCj2c5A/VbOw_5_n1iI/AAAAAAAAgHQ/_lcAk_3_fxg/s640/IMG_5419.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GXmFO3-uX50/VbOxH1fOFjI/AAAAAAAAgHo/lhpMQnSk8rw/s1600/IMG_5421.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GXmFO3-uX50/VbOxH1fOFjI/AAAAAAAAgHo/lhpMQnSk8rw/s640/IMG_5421.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8zpIQNtFYdo/VbOxJT0nhcI/AAAAAAAAgHw/LLiEJ92IGY8/s1600/IMG_5423.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8zpIQNtFYdo/VbOxJT0nhcI/AAAAAAAAgHw/LLiEJ92IGY8/s640/IMG_5423.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ryytJU4fhKc/VbOxJ0rrlmI/AAAAAAAAgH0/0VQE3sxhWe4/s1600/IMG_5425.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ryytJU4fhKc/VbOxJ0rrlmI/AAAAAAAAgH0/0VQE3sxhWe4/s640/IMG_5425.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2Eh7zR6uVfY/VbOxQqbvuPI/AAAAAAAAgIA/G3gDWYXJ76o/s1600/IMG_5430.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2Eh7zR6uVfY/VbOxQqbvuPI/AAAAAAAAgIA/G3gDWYXJ76o/s640/IMG_5430.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yuJianqSCT0/VbOxRtON8SI/AAAAAAAAgII/utbdyt7dKOE/s1600/IMG_5431.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yuJianqSCT0/VbOxRtON8SI/AAAAAAAAgII/utbdyt7dKOE/s640/IMG_5431.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KScf7KWp9Sk/VbOxSxA-h5I/AAAAAAAAgIQ/qNjF60Zq5hU/s1600/IMG_5433.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KScf7KWp9Sk/VbOxSxA-h5I/AAAAAAAAgIQ/qNjF60Zq5hU/s640/IMG_5433.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0-jYDGiZgxA/VbOxYohFr6I/AAAAAAAAgIY/iK4hjn5k34c/s1600/IMG_5441.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0-jYDGiZgxA/VbOxYohFr6I/AAAAAAAAgIY/iK4hjn5k34c/s640/IMG_5441.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;Little Village, how I love you.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Oh how I wish that your lives weren't wrecked with loss already.&nbsp; I look at you, each with your tiny little faces and precious,&nbsp;wondering eyes and I long to take it all away.</div><div style="text-align: center;">But I believe if I asked you, you would never want me to-because that would mean not&nbsp;ever having her and not ever loving her.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">And you&nbsp;DID have her and you DID&nbsp;love her.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I am so proud of you all.&nbsp; Each one of you.</div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">Your hearts are better, stronger, more&nbsp;capable, more empathetic, more intuitive and graceful than&nbsp;most adults.&nbsp;&nbsp;Your minds comprehend things&nbsp;that are eternal and lasting and that is&nbsp;a profound gift that God chose to give each of you!</div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">Oh how I know you miss her.&nbsp; I watch your faces and I hear your questions and I ache&nbsp;to the bone for your&nbsp;desperate hearts.&nbsp; But I know that you know of a&nbsp;place where you will meet her again one day.&nbsp; And&nbsp;to me, that is incredibly worth it all.&nbsp; Oh what a place that will be!&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ziANWAWYwt8/VbOxZlfu8eI/AAAAAAAAgIo/f34fvx3a9kg/s1600/IMG_5446.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ziANWAWYwt8/VbOxZlfu8eI/AAAAAAAAgIo/f34fvx3a9kg/s640/IMG_5446.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rEpWi3p0UjM/VbOxZO88JvI/AAAAAAAAgIc/ZkpqG40XXV8/s1600/IMG_5450.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rEpWi3p0UjM/VbOxZO88JvI/AAAAAAAAgIc/ZkpqG40XXV8/s640/IMG_5450.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="poet1-vn-ch" style="text-align: center;">"For everything there is a season,</div><div class="poet2" style="text-align: center;">a time for every activity under heaven.</div><div class="poet1-vn" style="text-align: center;">A time to be born and a time to die.</div><div class="poet2" style="text-align: center;">A time to plant and a time to harvest.</div><div class="poet1-vn" style="text-align: center;">A time to kill and a time to heal.</div><div class="poet2" style="text-align: center;">A time to tear down and a time to build up.</div><div class="poet1-vn" style="text-align: center;">A time to cry and a time to laugh.</div><div class="poet2" style="text-align: center;">A time to grieve and a time to dance.</div><div class="poet1-vn" style="text-align: center;">A time to scatter stones and a time to gather stones.</div><div class="poet2" style="text-align: center;">A time to embrace and a time to turn away.</div><div class="poet1-vn" style="text-align: center;">A time to search and a time to quit searching.</div><div class="poet2" style="text-align: center;">A time to keep and a time to throw away.</div><div class="poet1-vn" style="text-align: center;">A&nbsp;time to tear and a time to mend.</div><div class="poet2" style="text-align: center;">A time to be quiet and a time to speak.</div><div class="poet1-vn" style="text-align: center;">A time to love and a time to hate.</div><div class="poet2" style="text-align: center;">A time for war and a time for peace...</div><div class="body-sp" style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Z6HHh4x650A/VbOxfSJTuFI/AAAAAAAAgIw/aMZu2hTtJLg/s1600/IMG_5461.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Z6HHh4x650A/VbOxfSJTuFI/AAAAAAAAgIw/aMZu2hTtJLg/s640/IMG_5461.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />...What do people really get for all their hard work?&nbsp; I have seen the burden God has placed on us all.&nbsp; Yet God has made everything beautiful for its own time. He has planted eternity in the human heart, but even so, people cannot see the whole scope of God’s work from beginning to end.&nbsp; So I concluded there is nothing better than to be happy and enjoy ourselves as long as we can.&nbsp; And people should eat and drink and enjoy the fruits of their labor, for these are gifts from God...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8I3uBLBTZC0/VbOxh1N6C2I/AAAAAAAAgI4/6Ex_vipD1mA/s1600/IMG_5462.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8I3uBLBTZC0/VbOxh1N6C2I/AAAAAAAAgI4/6Ex_vipD1mA/s640/IMG_5462.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><div class="body1" style="text-align: center;">...And I know that whatever God does is final. Nothing can be added to it or taken from it. God’s purpose is that people should fear him.&nbsp; What is happening now has happened before, and what will happen in the future has happened before, because God makes the same things happen over and over again."&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;Ecclesiastes 3:1-15</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zN5oqy7C6JQ/VbOxhljkhnI/AAAAAAAAgI8/JIE7kwCRjSA/s1600/IMG_5464.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zN5oqy7C6JQ/VbOxhljkhnI/AAAAAAAAgI8/JIE7kwCRjSA/s400/IMG_5464.JPG" width="266" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-w7cNXAMs45c/VbOxmeT8iSI/AAAAAAAAgJI/5itQXasewxE/s1600/IMG_5466.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-w7cNXAMs45c/VbOxmeT8iSI/AAAAAAAAgJI/5itQXasewxE/s400/IMG_5466.JPG" width="266" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;We added nothing to and took nothing from Mabel's life.</div><div style="text-align: center;">She was just herself.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">Mabel Audrine, prettiest thing we'd ever seen.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Z-08wHVmy28/VbOxpoWu0zI/AAAAAAAAgJQ/8e9BTAGECyw/s1600/IMG_5469.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Z-08wHVmy28/VbOxpoWu0zI/AAAAAAAAgJQ/8e9BTAGECyw/s640/IMG_5469.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;We ate her up and drank her in and oh we were happy.</div><div style="text-align: center;">We obeyed and honored God in her every day.</div><div style="text-align: center;">So on the day of her birth we celebrated her big, in all the ways we always have.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">She was our perfect gift.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-M_DcFhyfArs/VbOxqFqG4LI/AAAAAAAAgJU/jX4X8f4cmH0/s1600/IMG_5470.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-M_DcFhyfArs/VbOxqFqG4LI/AAAAAAAAgJU/jX4X8f4cmH0/s640/IMG_5470.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;Oh how we miss our girl.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">We miss her with an unquenchable, undeniable, protruding and endless ache.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">But we thank God for Heaven.</div><div style="text-align: center;">For Promise.</div><div style="text-align: center;">For hope.</div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">And I thank God for the gift of one another.&nbsp; That I've never had to walk it alone and that in her life journey she gave so much of herself to everyone; so much that we were all filled up to overflowing with love for her.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9ZvWUervt7Q/VbOxr4N85RI/AAAAAAAAgJg/Tge8ubOXIVk/s1600/IMG_5476.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9ZvWUervt7Q/VbOxr4N85RI/AAAAAAAAgJg/Tge8ubOXIVk/s400/IMG_5476.JPG" width="266" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HC6-K-csQfg/VbOxxboz9JI/AAAAAAAAgJs/m91pxVeApbA/s1600/IMG_5480.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HC6-K-csQfg/VbOxxboz9JI/AAAAAAAAgJs/m91pxVeApbA/s400/IMG_5480.JPG" width="266" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;&nbsp;She lived 4 years and 10 months on this earth.</div><div style="text-align: center;">She will live on every single day in our hearts.</div><div style="text-align: center;">She is alive and well in Heaven and we are grateful.</div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">Oh Lord, let us shine bright the love that she did and continue to honor You in all we do.</div><br />http://www.rameelinlarson.com/2015/07/mabels-birthday-tree-plant.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (rameelin)3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719485298486668964.post-4681962992203251502Fri, 24 Jul 2015 04:52:00 +00002015-07-24T11:57:54.507-05:00Batten Disease Conference, 2015.<div style="text-align: center;">I signed up when she was alive, screaming beside me.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">Traveling would be hard with her this year, I remember thinking.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Traveling without her was harder by a long shot.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-JqppjGuavmM/Va8ChUkxGyI/AAAAAAAAfsI/RZ4zZ6nQrXY/s640/blogger-image-2099689407.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-JqppjGuavmM/Va8ChUkxGyI/AAAAAAAAfsI/RZ4zZ6nQrXY/s640/blogger-image-2099689407.jpg" width="640"></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Before Mabel ever died, we decided that many of us would make the trip to the annual batten disease conference this year, as it was in Chicago; just a two hour drive.&nbsp; When we started planning the trip we had no idea that she wouldn't be with us but as the time drew nearer to her death, I knew.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br></div><div style="text-align: center;">We chose to go anyway, and I think all of us are thankful that we did.&nbsp; Her absence is everywhere.&nbsp; She leaves a void that just can't be filled.&nbsp; So we made the best of all we could.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br></div><div style="text-align: center;">Day one:&nbsp; We saw some of the families that I love and connect with throughout the year; families that are strong and really brave.&nbsp; We went swimming, had dinner, and then visited more with other batten children, their siblings and parents.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-8AG9J8FCFKQ/Va8CMisaz4I/AAAAAAAAfsA/xNVMVd9WG2s/s640/blogger-image-797645947.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="638" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-8AG9J8FCFKQ/Va8CMisaz4I/AAAAAAAAfsA/xNVMVd9WG2s/s640/blogger-image-797645947.jpg" width="640"></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Day two:&nbsp; We had a really nice lunch, attended some really great sessions, Chris and I went on a 'life goes on' outing to a comedy club with other families who are bereaved and then later, the kids went on their own outing to midieval times with the sibs group.&nbsp;<br><br>Braden had a really hard time the entire weekend.<br>&nbsp; In fact, our boy is still having the most difficult time.&nbsp; He doesn't leave Mabel's room when he is home.&nbsp; He has found comfort in watching videos on the computer in her bed and strangely I have found comfort in him being there too.&nbsp; It has kept me from closing the door altogether and forced me to be present with the space.&nbsp; But as far as Braden and his emotions go, we are still on a wild ride every day.&nbsp; He doesn't leave the house much and will hardly go with anyone other than me.&nbsp; That's ok, and I know it's normal but it's been a challenge; this weekend at the conference proving to be the most difficult thus far.<br><br>But none of it was super 'easy' for any of us; not by a long shot.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-MInT0zSKc30/Va_LswPDbuI/AAAAAAAAftQ/ti-dLDpsGv8/s640/blogger-image--87252082.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-MInT0zSKc30/Va_LswPDbuI/AAAAAAAAftQ/ti-dLDpsGv8/s640/blogger-image--87252082.jpg" width="573"></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">After attending the first morning session and listening to a researcher who is new to the batten community, my emotions were raw and high.&nbsp; I sat beside Elijah, the only 'baby' like my girl and wept as I watched his body jerk and rest simultaneously.&nbsp; I felt silently close to my girl but also jealous for her that her own body never had this kind of rest.&nbsp; Even in the movements he couldn't control, he slept comfortably.&nbsp; What a gift that is!<br></div><div style="text-align: center;">Eventually I got the courage and strength and wrapped him up in my arms.&nbsp; I held him for what felt like forever and breathed him in.&nbsp; I didn't realize how empty my arms had been feeling until they were full of him.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-clp_T21E__M/VbBF3VcxvMI/AAAAAAAAf-I/o9E034wl1Kw/s640/blogger-image-808416369.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-clp_T21E__M/VbBF3VcxvMI/AAAAAAAAf-I/o9E034wl1Kw/s640/blogger-image-808416369.jpg" width="640"></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Last year our experience with the conference was amazing.&nbsp; It was exhausting because traveling with Mabel was never easy, but it was completely worth it.&nbsp; We met families who I have not only stayed connected with but have really learned to love and respect.&nbsp; I've walked beside them through some of their hardest days and they have done the same for me.&nbsp; This community is really strong and very unique and even now, after batten disease overtook her body, I can say I feel really thankful to be part of it all.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br></div><div style="text-align: center;">The unity that we share rests in something very tragic and unfair but it is still unity, nevertheless and that is rare.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-LTTtiJ2IrKE/Va8CI07_9NI/AAAAAAAAfr4/8ApGiN86rA0/s640/blogger-image--648567790.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-LTTtiJ2IrKE/Va8CI07_9NI/AAAAAAAAfr4/8ApGiN86rA0/s640/blogger-image--648567790.jpg" width="640"></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Nora thrived at this year's conference.&nbsp; She remembered friends from last year (which was my true hope) and seemed to be excited at the chance to be involved in all of the activities.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br></div><div style="text-align: center;">I watched her and without trying to over analyze, I think that she did so well because </div><div style="text-align: center;">she didn't have to say a single word to a single person about her sister and what we just went through.&nbsp; It was if she knew that they knew and that brought her comfort.&nbsp; She has really grown in the last several weeks and I can see now with such clarity that the last two years of learning to cope with so many changes in her little world has helped her to cope and grieve now in the most healthy ways that make sense for her.&nbsp; I am just so proud of my girl.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-KGHQyJMOD_o/Va_LxoXik1I/AAAAAAAAftY/DQ7numDiPgc/s640/blogger-image-671744495.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-KGHQyJMOD_o/Va_LxoXik1I/AAAAAAAAftY/DQ7numDiPgc/s640/blogger-image-671744495.jpg" width="640"></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">This year I was so thankful to have my sister and brother drive up for the conference on Friday night.&nbsp; They got to meet several families and enjoy a full day of sessions, and a really nice banquet dinner Saturday night.&nbsp; Ash and Rache drove up on Saturday and met us for that as well.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-3aPFR10-4C0/Va8CB6RnKUI/AAAAAAAAfro/lcO6jAGoEUg/s640/blogger-image-285668296.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-3aPFR10-4C0/Va8CB6RnKUI/AAAAAAAAfro/lcO6jAGoEUg/s640/blogger-image-285668296.jpg" width="640"></a></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7u4_zfVGmVQ/VbBGH1axj9I/AAAAAAAAf-w/_TPs_XmPQiw/s640/blogger-image-240972653.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7u4_zfVGmVQ/VbBGH1axj9I/AAAAAAAAf-w/_TPs_XmPQiw/s640/blogger-image-240972653.jpg" width="640"></a></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/--W1NtnbM9w4/Va8C-I_-M-I/AAAAAAAAfsw/PhqMHCNnewk/s640/blogger-image-425429170.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/--W1NtnbM9w4/Va8C-I_-M-I/AAAAAAAAfsw/PhqMHCNnewk/s640/blogger-image-425429170.jpg" width="640"></a></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-trfwUGK6rGw/Va_L0sViHEI/AAAAAAAAftg/ACBHF1ABm20/s640/blogger-image-1759450855.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-trfwUGK6rGw/Va_L0sViHEI/AAAAAAAAftg/ACBHF1ABm20/s640/blogger-image-1759450855.jpg" width="558"></a></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-brwMUvC4Co4/VbBFzSisNNI/AAAAAAAAf-A/A_7HOdGkpQ0/s640/blogger-image-770535118.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-brwMUvC4Co4/VbBFzSisNNI/AAAAAAAAf-A/A_7HOdGkpQ0/s640/blogger-image-770535118.jpg" width="640"></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">I watched my sister and brother walk through losing their niece just a few weeks prior to this conference.&nbsp; I watched them both hold her the day before she died and I watched them sleep beside me as I slept with her draped across me until she took her last breath.&nbsp; I saw their bodies slumber in tune to mine, pulling and gnawing for my pain.&nbsp; I watched their eyes meet mine in that room, all of us reassuring one another with our glances; we would survive this, we have each other.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br></div><div style="text-align: center;">And then I watched them rise up from that deep sorrow to a place of really deep surrender.&nbsp; I've watched them experience sadness, fear, anger, yearning.&nbsp; I've heard their voices tremble over the missing of their girl.&nbsp; Each of them, a special piece she held in their hearts. But I've seen peace surpass even their own understanding.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br></div><div style="text-align: center;">I have felt them uplift me just by walking in the room.&nbsp; Where they are, I am ok.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;My prayer is always that wherever we go, we would shine the light of Jesus.&nbsp; When we smile, let people know Him.&nbsp; When we laugh, let people know Him.&nbsp; When we cry, let people know Him.&nbsp; When we bind together, let people see it and know Him.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-PmMOM_kGH-8/VbBGEa81TTI/AAAAAAAAf-o/qDHd4h_AT2c/s640/blogger-image--506493278.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-PmMOM_kGH-8/VbBGEa81TTI/AAAAAAAAf-o/qDHd4h_AT2c/s640/blogger-image--506493278.jpg" width="640">&nbsp;</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And that's exactly what we've done.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Silently, we've sworn to one another that we won't turn around and walk away.&nbsp; We won't run from this awful, horrendous thing known as grief.&nbsp; We won't turn inside toward ourselves and shut one another out.&nbsp; Oh no, we need each other far more than that. &nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Never once have we uttered it aloud but we know.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And we have never left one another. &nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-3lW9NA4q784/Va8CknN-cdI/AAAAAAAAfsQ/5PnsAj53P9U/s640/blogger-image--376459870.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-3lW9NA4q784/Va8CknN-cdI/AAAAAAAAfsQ/5PnsAj53P9U/s640/blogger-image--376459870.jpg" width="640"></a></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-DuwqXd_9Djg/Va8B-MUTW-I/AAAAAAAAfrg/IEfxWgTzv4c/s640/blogger-image--1183656701.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-DuwqXd_9Djg/Va8B-MUTW-I/AAAAAAAAfrg/IEfxWgTzv4c/s640/blogger-image--1183656701.jpg" width="640"></a></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-nT13CdIxZDs/Va8C5vYsaoI/AAAAAAAAfso/ausZRxS9D2w/s640/blogger-image--380420142.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-nT13CdIxZDs/Va8C5vYsaoI/AAAAAAAAfso/ausZRxS9D2w/s640/blogger-image--380420142.jpg" width="640"></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">The conference was really great.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">I have been asked if I am glad I went, if I plan to go again, will I continue to go, was it difficult, were the kids engaged, did I get anything out of it?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br></div><div style="text-align: center;">The truth?</div><div style="text-align: center;">I'm glad I went.&nbsp; I saw hopelessness in the eyes of several families and I prayed in those moments that in us, they would know they will survive.&nbsp; I prayed that we would be a beacon of hope and light to them on their darkest days.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br></div><div style="text-align: center;">I plan to go again for the same reasons, of course.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br></div><div style="text-align: center;">It was difficult.&nbsp; Far more than I anticipated.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br></div><div style="text-align: center;">The kids were engaged and I learned alot about what that means and doesn't mean.&nbsp; For my children; the children in this situation who have lost a sister; the only people here who know what that feels like, this conference is everything.&nbsp; It will be a vital part of keeping them connected to her.&nbsp; And in turn, to Him.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br></div><div style="text-align: center;">I left with a few pieces of information that I didn't walk in knowing but for the most part, nothing too new.&nbsp; Batten disease is a horrible thing and it is stealing the lives of our children.&nbsp; But it is not stealing the joy from the people who love them.&nbsp; And that is going to need to be a critical reminder on my hard days ahead.&nbsp; It was easy to find joy when I was holding her in my arms, but where can I find it now?&nbsp; Who will I turn to and hold on to now?&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">When I think back to this conference I will remember the families who are walking out true joy in the midst of suffering and I will purpose myself to never forget.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-pQx5Iq7amjU/VbBF-Z4Zw3I/AAAAAAAAf-Y/H7Zj3cjopEg/s640/blogger-image-1933520938.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="638" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-pQx5Iq7amjU/VbBF-Z4Zw3I/AAAAAAAAf-Y/H7Zj3cjopEg/s640/blogger-image-1933520938.jpg" width="640"></a></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-sg-Ingfhk90/VbBF6l0f-OI/AAAAAAAAf-Q/TCRXvKM1SQY/s640/blogger-image-2112710114.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-sg-Ingfhk90/VbBF6l0f-OI/AAAAAAAAf-Q/TCRXvKM1SQY/s640/blogger-image-2112710114.jpg" width="640"></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Last year we loved the banquet, wheelchair parade and dance party.&nbsp; This year was no different.&nbsp; In fact, it was amazing.&nbsp; Braden still had a really hard time and honestly it's hard to even type out how I feel about him surrounding the loss of his sister.&nbsp; He feels so big.&nbsp; His heart is broken.&nbsp; And mine is just useless when trying to comfort him.&nbsp; All I can do is what I'm doing and that is loving him so big through it all and being really patient.&nbsp; I just pray that everyone in his life will continue to do the same for the duration; no matter how long it takes.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-zrFu3ByYw_E/Va8B6CKvY8I/AAAAAAAAfrY/fbYxvojOrYA/s640/blogger-image-301955699.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-zrFu3ByYw_E/Va8B6CKvY8I/AAAAAAAAfrY/fbYxvojOrYA/s640/blogger-image-301955699.jpg" width="640"></a></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7l1Q6i-AQ5s/Va_L36Jb7cI/AAAAAAAAfto/0afFedA-8Ys/s640/blogger-image--842176298.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7l1Q6i-AQ5s/Va_L36Jb7cI/AAAAAAAAfto/0afFedA-8Ys/s640/blogger-image--842176298.jpg"></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">On Sunday morning, the last day of the conference, there is a very special memorial service held for families who have lost children to this disease or anyone who wants to pay special tribute.</div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">I haven't written or spoke much about it, but there were many, very specific, researched and thought-through reasons why our family didn't have a public service when Mabel died, so to sit in that room and walk through those motions; that was very hard to say the least.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br></div><div style="text-align: center;">However, it was something I never want to miss.&nbsp; Not ever.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">I sat and watched what felt like hundreds of names and pictures scroll across the wall in front of me.&nbsp; Beautiful children and adults of all ages affected by this disease that ultimately took their lives.&nbsp; It was all consuming.&nbsp; It was beyond humbling.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br></div><div style="text-align: center;">I sat and watched people who have now become some of my dearest friends walk the aisle to light a candle in memory of and to honor their child and I felt like I would vomit.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">Sometimes none of it feels real but in this moment, nothing in the world felt more true.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">My child <i>had</i> batten disease.&nbsp; She was going to live to be between the ages of 4 and 6.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">She died.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br></div><div style="text-align: center;">It's so unreal.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">And yet, I'm living here without her.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-vvbTZNI7W84/VbBGBcLxwHI/AAAAAAAAf-g/ohvINP6rAvs/s640/blogger-image-716292973.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-vvbTZNI7W84/VbBGBcLxwHI/AAAAAAAAf-g/ohvINP6rAvs/s640/blogger-image-716292973.jpg"></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">This is the time when Nora checked back out emotionally and decided not to help us light a candle but Braden tapped back in and decided he wanted to.&nbsp; Both true to their own coping mechanisms, I was so proud of them in this moment.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-wSeZAMmLXeU/Va8C2HOuttI/AAAAAAAAfsg/YaeP22_DfIk/s640/blogger-image--1370296333.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-wSeZAMmLXeU/Va8C2HOuttI/AAAAAAAAfsg/YaeP22_DfIk/s640/blogger-image--1370296333.jpg"></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">It was a beautiful and touching service and although no parent should EVER have to sit through it, I am thankful that we are loved so big.&nbsp; I am thankful for the support we have received and continue to every day.&nbsp; I am grateful that this journey is not one that I have to walk alone.&nbsp; It was never intended to be that way and to that end, will never have to be.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br></div><div style="text-align: center;">All in all it was a really great experience.&nbsp; We laughed, cried, met new people, made new friends.&nbsp; We danced and talked and swam and relaxed.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">Just like we are doing in day to day life; we mended joy and sorrow throughout the weekend.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-F6V2CDUemg0/Va8CFsNNi3I/AAAAAAAAfrw/Xa5f7es8Z_o/s640/blogger-image--815642813.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="638" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-F6V2CDUemg0/Va8CFsNNi3I/AAAAAAAAfrw/Xa5f7es8Z_o/s640/blogger-image--815642813.jpg" width="640">&nbsp;</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oSKuNbmDJyk/VbESjrb8k6I/AAAAAAAAf_o/HEnyJ8P6pdw/s1600/10392346_10153369415245236_7334823204226739890_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oSKuNbmDJyk/VbESjrb8k6I/AAAAAAAAf_o/HEnyJ8P6pdw/s1600/10392346_10153369415245236_7334823204226739890_n.jpg"></a></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rNpOiV-4p3w/VbESjnT92SI/AAAAAAAAf_w/2ZJAonqEKOQ/s1600/11012965_10153369415230236_3289321221254987625_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="460" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rNpOiV-4p3w/VbESjnT92SI/AAAAAAAAf_w/2ZJAonqEKOQ/s640/11012965_10153369415230236_3289321221254987625_n.jpg" width="640"></a></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="496" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-x7AUEDlxZCU/VbESkdXYcqI/AAAAAAAAf_8/d5nIWxtSAYY/s640/11700864_10153368875335236_5371468211681011798_n.jpg" width="640"></a></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hF_Ns7g0q-A/VbESkRYgE3I/AAAAAAAAgAE/_hqOxePCUa8/s1600/11745507_10153368875155236_1744105658444636472_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hF_Ns7g0q-A/VbESkRYgE3I/AAAAAAAAgAE/_hqOxePCUa8/s640/11745507_10153368875155236_1744105658444636472_n.jpg" width="532"></a></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IaNuQ_ySvJk/VbESk7SRVMI/AAAAAAAAgAM/zusTVXa9ZkY/s1600/11745962_10153369415110236_4683702415791535705_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IaNuQ_ySvJk/VbESk7SRVMI/AAAAAAAAgAM/zusTVXa9ZkY/s1600/11745962_10153369415110236_4683702415791535705_n.jpg"></a></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DakrbX4JsV0/VbESmybftPI/AAAAAAAAgAo/3yCrCLTGATA/s1600/11751947_10153368875195236_6973395268240507939_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DakrbX4JsV0/VbESmybftPI/AAAAAAAAgAo/3yCrCLTGATA/s640/11751947_10153368875195236_6973395268240507939_n.jpg" width="526"></a></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EXKxqFt0XyM/VbESl1YkvoI/AAAAAAAAgAg/WKOkn3VgRzM/s1600/11755632_10153369415095236_2607630499140097595_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EXKxqFt0XyM/VbESl1YkvoI/AAAAAAAAgAg/WKOkn3VgRzM/s1600/11755632_10153369415095236_2607630499140097595_n.jpg"></a></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vARf6jiY3mM/VbESq1nj3YI/AAAAAAAAgAw/MUv8vYg6Jxg/s1600/IMG_5251.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vARf6jiY3mM/VbESq1nj3YI/AAAAAAAAgAw/MUv8vYg6Jxg/s640/IMG_5251.JPG" width="640"></a></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--ODYscuwZVQ/VbEStVQrwAI/AAAAAAAAgA4/HVdRdxVA9Q4/s1600/IMG_5260.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--ODYscuwZVQ/VbEStVQrwAI/AAAAAAAAgA4/HVdRdxVA9Q4/s640/IMG_5260.JPG" width="426"></a></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GZDASxjy0tI/VbESxL03tgI/AAAAAAAAgBI/yA05bFcpfP4/s1600/IMG_5262.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GZDASxjy0tI/VbESxL03tgI/AAAAAAAAgBI/yA05bFcpfP4/s640/IMG_5262.JPG" width="640"></a></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B5aAGlzJyZI/VbESzEqPNRI/AAAAAAAAgBQ/DrbfxGEu6IQ/s1600/IMG_5264.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B5aAGlzJyZI/VbESzEqPNRI/AAAAAAAAgBQ/DrbfxGEu6IQ/s640/IMG_5264.JPG" width="426">&nbsp;</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">To our batten family:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We love you.&nbsp; Thank you for your unending support and selflessness.&nbsp; Never have I been more grateful to know the kind of people that I am surrounded by.&nbsp; Never have I felt more thankful that my children will grow up knowing those same kind of people.&nbsp; May they become more like you!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br></div><div style="text-align: center;">To the BDSRA:</div><div style="text-align: center;">Thank you for all you have <i>always</i> done for not only Mabel, but for Nora and Braden as well.&nbsp; We feel really wrapped up in your love and support and that has meant everything to us.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br></div><div style="text-align: center;">I would never have chose this life to live out.&nbsp; If given the opportunity I probably would have walked on by.&nbsp; Instead, God handed it to me, wrapped in a delicate, dark haired beauty and entrusted me with the journey.&nbsp; I will forever do my best to turn it around for His glory.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>"The one who showed Mercy.&nbsp; You go and do likewise."</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>--Luke 10:37</b></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>http://www.rameelinlarson.com/2015/07/batten-disease-conference-2015.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (rameelin)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719485298486668964.post-294286017325695803Sat, 18 Jul 2015 15:17:00 +00002015-07-18T10:18:27.860-05:00Diagnosis Day; 3 years later. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;Three years ago today, 2 days after her second birthday, Mabel was officially diagnosed with Batten Disease.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">On the phone that day I was told Mabel's diagnosis was 'terminal.'&nbsp; I also learned that day that batten disease would take all of the skills from her that she had gained, which weren't many to begin with.&nbsp; That her seizures would only get worse.&nbsp; That her brain would continue to shrink until it basically became non existent.&nbsp; I learned that what vision she did have, she would lose.&nbsp; I learned that she would probably lose the ability to swallow and most likely her ability to smile and that ultimately, batten disease would take her life between the ages of 4 and 6 years old.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-U5oilWzKGQU/VaplwcIOiiI/AAAAAAAAfqk/ix-jcxdVW0s/s1600/IMG_4368.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-U5oilWzKGQU/VaplwcIOiiI/AAAAAAAAfqk/ix-jcxdVW0s/s640/IMG_4368.JPG" width="426" />&nbsp;</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Mabel lived to be 4 years and 10 months old; the statistic ringing out a staggering truth over our lives.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Batten Disease did all of the things that were promised to me that day on the phone except for one.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">At the time of that call, Mabel had learned to sit independently for moments at a time but lost that ability just months later.&nbsp; She was eating during speech therapy and a little here and there when we would try, but she soon stopped trying herself.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">She could 'see' us some days but some days not at all. &nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">She became weak, frail, and&nbsp; seized almost constantly until the last twelve weeks of her life.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">As I prayed from July 18, 2012 forward, she NEVER lost the ability to smile.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">To the very end, she felt emotion and she showed it. &nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Batten Disease did not take Mabel's smile and that is our victory, and the sweetest. &nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YiGLS3UOL-I/Vapl0Y4jJHI/AAAAAAAAfqw/NNXeRxMh3PY/s1600/IMG_4367.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YiGLS3UOL-I/Vapl0Y4jJHI/AAAAAAAAfqw/NNXeRxMh3PY/s640/IMG_4367.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;Batten Disease is 1 of approximately 50 lysosomal storage disorders, meaning essentially that a genetic mutation disrupts the cells ability to get rid of waste.&nbsp; Almost like a garbage truck that fills up but never stops to dump it's load of trash so it continues to pile and pile and pile.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">With batten disease, cells are thrown out of balance with the build up of proteins and fats.&nbsp; This affects the brain, the eyes, the muscles, speech and many other functioning parts of the body.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">There are four main types of batten disease.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">Infantile, late infantile, juvenile and adult onset.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">There are variants to most of these types.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Even still, with every known gene being tested in Mabel, no exact type was ever discovered.&nbsp; Even to her death, she was still such a mystery.&nbsp; Though we know she had batten disease, we were left with the question of 'what gene was affected?'&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-49eTQbf4_g0/VaplwA2LnUI/AAAAAAAAfqg/nmcwf5soz4Y/s1600/IMG_4369.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-49eTQbf4_g0/VaplwA2LnUI/AAAAAAAAfqg/nmcwf5soz4Y/s640/IMG_4369.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;I'm writing this today because it's important.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">As always, what we do not know about, we can not understand.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Two days before Mabel died, a researcher from Children's Hospital of Philadelphia called me and was interested in 'her case.'&nbsp; This was ironic to me, as I knew she was dying and we had been waiting a very long time for someone to come along for the sake of science and medicine and dig in to figuring this out for us.&nbsp; After all, Mabel could easily hold the key to a gene that has yet to be discovered and what if-just what if that gene could be named for her?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I told him our situation, that our sweet girl was dying and he was more than kind.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">I told him, of course I wanted to pursue figuring this out, if that was an option and that meant only if we had blood or DNA stored somewhere from previous testing.&nbsp; He would look into it for me and let me know. &nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I had the pleasure of meeting that researcher at the batten disease conference last weekend (more about that to come in a future post), and he was incredibly empathetic and genuine.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">He was also young, exuberant and interested.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">We are hopeful that what is meant to be known, would be brought to light and what is meant to be unknown would remain that way.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">I am at peace either way.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-izhDo-MzMQs/Vapl0uy-vrI/AAAAAAAAfq0/r4sX7tAY2_k/s1600/IMG_4370.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-izhDo-MzMQs/Vapl0uy-vrI/AAAAAAAAfq0/r4sX7tAY2_k/s640/IMG_4370.JPG" width="640" />&nbsp;</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Three years ago today I remember writing my post and typing out the words,&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"My daughter has a rare disease."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Today I am typing out the words...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"...and it took her life."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Research requires funding.&nbsp; Funding requires interest.&nbsp; Interest requires love, compassion, empathy.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">You've been so good to our family. &nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Please just look at her face and never forget.&nbsp; There are so many more children like her.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And though Heaven was her perfect reward,&nbsp; these children deserve to live a life free of suffering.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Today is Diagnosis Day.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Today was the day that after months of searching, pleading, grieving, and&nbsp; wrestling with anyone who would listen, I found peace.&nbsp; Though I knew she would not live, I also knew that I was free to live a life with her where her care and comfort were most important.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I learned to simultaneously despise a disease that raged within her and love every single little piece of her.&nbsp; After diagnosis day, 2012, I never really saw batten disease.&nbsp; I just saw Mabel for who she was really created to be.&nbsp; That just happened to include a lot of really hard stuff.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I am so thankful that she is free from this world, and her disease but oh I miss her so.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>She was not made for here.&nbsp;&nbsp;</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>His peace surpasses my total understanding.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>He is so good and His love endures.&nbsp;&nbsp;</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>-----</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>For more information on batten disease or to donate in Mabel's honor, please visit&nbsp;</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>www.bdsra.org&nbsp;</b><i> </i></div>http://www.rameelinlarson.com/2015/07/diagnosis-day-3-years-later.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (rameelin)1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719485298486668964.post-2547901907321600918Mon, 06 Jul 2015 22:23:00 +00002015-07-06T17:36:56.895-05:004H, 4th of July, together. <div align="center">This weekend was not only our first 4th of July without Mabel but it was also Nora's very first 4H horse show.&nbsp; She has been practicing for weeks with Pawpy, Uncle Jake, and Heather and was very prepared.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">Though, one thing I have learned for certain is that no amount of mental&nbsp;preparing can actually prepare you for what lies ahead.&nbsp; And when it was time for our girl's first class of the day so many tears and so much anxiety followed.&nbsp; ﻿</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-6_Fu3fY-7Oc/VZrytwgjWII/AAAAAAAAfkM/PwsJXvFz5M4/s640/blogger-image--276065718.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="638" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-6_Fu3fY-7Oc/VZrytwgjWII/AAAAAAAAfkM/PwsJXvFz5M4/s640/blogger-image--276065718.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div align="center">Uncle Jake walked with her into the arena and she did fantastic.&nbsp; It seemed that her nerves quickly subsided and the rest of the day she truly enjoyed herself.&nbsp; ﻿</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-u80ik2pZ4kg/VZrzzEUwhhI/AAAAAAAAfkk/FU6OKOJuxhc/s640/blogger-image-879755221.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="638" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-u80ik2pZ4kg/VZrzzEUwhhI/AAAAAAAAfkk/FU6OKOJuxhc/s640/blogger-image-879755221.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div align="center">Nora's spirit is much like Aunt Jeni's.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">She is calm, peaceful, introverted, nervous, dedicated, articulate, and beautiful.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">She is a rule follower and wants to be very good at whatever it is she's doing.&nbsp; She's determined and focused.&nbsp; She has so many qualities that I admire.&nbsp; ﻿</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-iTyMm94YYXw/VZryanifFoI/AAAAAAAAfjk/M6eYPZ0g-f8/s640/blogger-image-1924807845.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-iTyMm94YYXw/VZryanifFoI/AAAAAAAAfjk/M6eYPZ0g-f8/s400/blogger-image-1924807845.jpg" width="269" /></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-_kAmNnN9QW8/VZryeQ22PjI/AAAAAAAAfjs/Mw3G3PnImbs/s640/blogger-image-1804566233.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-_kAmNnN9QW8/VZryeQ22PjI/AAAAAAAAfjs/Mw3G3PnImbs/s400/blogger-image-1804566233.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-hsPfEh_efys/VZr2bos1lhI/AAAAAAAAfmQ/QZ7Y1XXEwqs/s640/blogger-image--670138565.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-hsPfEh_efys/VZr2bos1lhI/AAAAAAAAfmQ/QZ7Y1XXEwqs/s640/blogger-image--670138565.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div align="center">When it was time to ride in the afternoon classes, she placed in every class she rode in.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">For sure a confidence booster!﻿</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-WR2gBR1YXOI/VZr0aOfgE1I/AAAAAAAAfk0/jVhwS1ZsUKY/s640/blogger-image--1638278708.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-WR2gBR1YXOI/VZr0aOfgE1I/AAAAAAAAfk0/jVhwS1ZsUKY/s640/blogger-image--1638278708.jpg" width="409" /></a></div><div align="center">I watched Saturday as my sister and brother rose up for me and for this little girl and I was, as usual, in awe of the siblings I have.&nbsp; How lucky I am that we all love each other in the ways that we do?&nbsp; That we are devoted to one another, stand by each other, never leave.&nbsp; We just stick it out together and know what it means to really be there when it's important.&nbsp; This is a gift, one that many people don't ever experience.&nbsp; Not only do I know it but I don't take it for granted, not for a second.&nbsp; They are remarkable humans and I adore them. Their hearts are not meant for a world like this one, but I am so thankful they are here.&nbsp; They are so good.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">And the pride they have for their girl, it's just incredible.&nbsp; ﻿</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7DtZT017HDY/VZrx56zfmXI/AAAAAAAAfjU/ykzX5-Wi4-k/s640/blogger-image-1180209651.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7DtZT017HDY/VZrx56zfmXI/AAAAAAAAfjU/ykzX5-Wi4-k/s640/blogger-image-1180209651.jpg" width="453" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Tjl7-3b0ivw/VZr1Z8alM7I/AAAAAAAAfls/AvnnaMMPVlI/s640/blogger-image--1409507532.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="638" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Tjl7-3b0ivw/VZr1Z8alM7I/AAAAAAAAfls/AvnnaMMPVlI/s640/blogger-image--1409507532.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">And I can't ever explain how proud I am of her.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Truly.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I started out this summer saying that, sure, she could do 4H but I wasn't taking her!&nbsp; But seeing her this weekend may have changed my mind.&nbsp; I spent many summers at these 4H grounds watching my sister and brother do what they loved and now, to see her do it-it's something very special.&nbsp; She was truly made for this.&nbsp; ﻿</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-XQZCm9O5bhI/VZr1WVK6LKI/AAAAAAAAflk/fei8I_va6uc/s640/blogger-image-1435193791.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-XQZCm9O5bhI/VZr1WVK6LKI/AAAAAAAAflk/fei8I_va6uc/s640/blogger-image-1435193791.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div align="center">So day one was a full success and by the end of it all she was confident and energetic.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">To see her this way means more than I could ever explain because this little girl has been through so much.&nbsp; Things I don't write about for her sake; so that one day she can tell of her own emotional journey and I will not have tried writing it for her.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">All I can say is that she has courage beyond comparison.&nbsp; Just 5 weeks after her sister went to be with Jesus she showed the world that she is brave in a way that most adults can never do.&nbsp; ﻿</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Kuu2l5ZB60k/VZr00K73qYI/AAAAAAAAflc/H1HbyfD2rYg/s640/blogger-image--1127391599.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Kuu2l5ZB60k/VZr00K73qYI/AAAAAAAAflc/H1HbyfD2rYg/s640/blogger-image--1127391599.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-HxEy5yWCp40/VZr0wB5VvbI/AAAAAAAAflU/2OftuCPosiY/s640/blogger-image-149745132.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-HxEy5yWCp40/VZr0wB5VvbI/AAAAAAAAflU/2OftuCPosiY/s640/blogger-image-149745132.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div align="center">Day one ended with the costume class after 9 hours in the heat.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">Nora placed in this class as well, celebrating our Independence as "Miss America" on our best horse, Half Pint.&nbsp; It was pretty special indeed.&nbsp; ﻿</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-e4EC45mvoNg/VZryldjCupI/AAAAAAAAfj8/P31pLHVW3fY/s640/blogger-image-644813902.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-e4EC45mvoNg/VZryldjCupI/AAAAAAAAfj8/P31pLHVW3fY/s640/blogger-image-644813902.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ZA7s8wogWLk/VZrxzC135DI/AAAAAAAAfjE/fv0uH7vMYF4/s640/blogger-image--1989134691.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ZA7s8wogWLk/VZrxzC135DI/AAAAAAAAfjE/fv0uH7vMYF4/s640/blogger-image--1989134691.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div align="center">After such a big day we were all exhausted and truly&nbsp;I&nbsp;should have just known to&nbsp;call it a night.&nbsp;But it was the 4th of July and parents typically take their kids to celebrate that&nbsp;sort of thing.</div><div align="center">Only&nbsp;I had no idea that going to see fireworks would trigger so many hard emotions for the kids or myself.</div><div align="center">But it did.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">I suppose that it's so hard for me to write about it all because I just assume the world can see the gaping hole where my heart sits, and theirs.&nbsp; But the world doesn't see that.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">The world sees a mom who truly is joyful but they don't see&nbsp;the one who is&nbsp;utterly exhausted, devastated and heartbroken; longing for a baby whose life was too short, whose suffering was far&nbsp;too big and whose&nbsp;legacy is just beyond explanation.&nbsp; A mom who fears that the 4 years her baby lived will go forgotten by the world.&nbsp; That it will all return to 'normal' for everyone else and there will be nothing normal at all left for us.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">What the world doesn't see are the bright eyed children who seem happy and adjusted break down for no apparent reason, refuse to eat, struggle with belly aches, not wanting to leave the house or sudden moments of total hysteria over a sister who is suddenly just not here.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">There may be triggers and some days there are none.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">Either way the sadness and panic come and all we can do is wallow our way through it together.&nbsp; The rest of the world wants it to just be another year of fireworks but it sure wasn't.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">Not for us.&nbsp; </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-DDQI1WiMesU/VZr2TS67lpI/AAAAAAAAfmA/OQOhbDjRNig/s640/blogger-image--1670947630.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-DDQI1WiMesU/VZr2TS67lpI/AAAAAAAAfmA/OQOhbDjRNig/s320/blogger-image--1670947630.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-yv98HlXrhOM/VZr1dSoBUUI/AAAAAAAAfl0/KjJcxHIg80w/s640/blogger-image-1471856871.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-yv98HlXrhOM/VZr1dSoBUUI/AAAAAAAAfl0/KjJcxHIg80w/s400/blogger-image-1471856871.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">But we ended up getting some good sleep after several meltdowns and we woke up ready for another day in the sun and mud.&nbsp; This time, a fun day.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Games on horses.&nbsp; A country kid's dream.&nbsp; ﻿</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-rw78wl3xioo/VZrzvKRE3YI/AAAAAAAAfkc/7ptZ8ZtYxOc/s640/blogger-image-330782300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-rw78wl3xioo/VZrzvKRE3YI/AAAAAAAAfkc/7ptZ8ZtYxOc/s640/blogger-image-330782300.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-iY-5UNkGF1M/VZr0d4ogKUI/AAAAAAAAfk8/REosLYOB9mU/s640/blogger-image-2026997486.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="427" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-iY-5UNkGF1M/VZr0d4ogKUI/AAAAAAAAfk8/REosLYOB9mU/s640/blogger-image-2026997486.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-pV_piGcSpJU/VZr0supz3fI/AAAAAAAAflM/ZknubBh9MQg/s640/blogger-image-926617831.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-pV_piGcSpJU/VZr0supz3fI/AAAAAAAAflM/ZknubBh9MQg/s640/blogger-image-926617831.jpg" width="557" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-n6X_rSAHypE/VZrz236WHBI/AAAAAAAAfks/HqWu9KbK-vM/s640/blogger-image-2113326770.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-n6X_rSAHypE/VZrz236WHBI/AAAAAAAAfks/HqWu9KbK-vM/s640/blogger-image-2113326770.jpg" width="589" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-kvTGMWUuEbA/VZryx8QW7jI/AAAAAAAAfkU/Y6E7yTvT9CM/s640/blogger-image--1750503842.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-kvTGMWUuEbA/VZryx8QW7jI/AAAAAAAAfkU/Y6E7yTvT9CM/s640/blogger-image--1750503842.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-3d-PU6zZSR4/VZr0oFvKPlI/AAAAAAAAflE/-IQ-n6SGAT4/s640/blogger-image--1965646960.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="427" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-3d-PU6zZSR4/VZr0oFvKPlI/AAAAAAAAflE/-IQ-n6SGAT4/s640/blogger-image--1965646960.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">A six hour day, with a lot of laughs and a lot of sun made for a really exhausted mommy.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">After the kids and I were bathed and I thought they were tucked in bed for the night, I tucked myself into the corner of the couch to finally let loose and literally weep in a way that I've done probably once a week since Mabel died.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Only this time, my biggest, sweetest girl walked around the corner and joined me.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">People don't see the ins and outs.&nbsp; The really gritty hard stuff that follows a beautiful, exciting day in the sun that leaves you so lonely inside you feel like you may die.&nbsp; They don't see it from me or from them but I suppose that's because it's not for them to see.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Her head rested on my chest and her little hand rubbed my arm and as I cried, she simply said, </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">"I know mommy.&nbsp; I know."</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">She cried and talked about how she misses grandma and how it hasn't even been a year since she died but she already forgets what it's like to have her here.&nbsp; How she's scared that she'll do the same with Mabel.&nbsp; How she feels guilty for wanting to be so busy and she's just so afraid.&nbsp; I hugged her tightly and just reassured her as she did to me, </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">"I know baby.&nbsp; I know."</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">We cried together, holding each other for a long time.&nbsp; And then we went to bed together and slept soundly, her breathing in time to mine.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I'm still not sure how we will survive it some days, when the air feels so empty&nbsp;without her here.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">But I know that we will.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I see the love of my own sister &amp; brother, my parents, my grandpas, my wonderful friends and I know with their support&nbsp;we will survive it.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">One hard moment, one day, one really touching, tough, amazing weekend at a time.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Together.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">﻿</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MR_nb6DELts/VZr9PAm_VSI/AAAAAAAAfmg/O6CfNLzwzNw/s1600/blogger-image--933556240.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="446" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MR_nb6DELts/VZr9PAm_VSI/AAAAAAAAfmg/O6CfNLzwzNw/s640/blogger-image--933556240.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This year, on the fourth of July, I thought about what it means to be free.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I'm grateful for our country but most of all for a God who ensures that with the hope of Heaven, we are truly free from this wicked world and all it carries.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />This year I silently thanked Him for&nbsp;taking&nbsp;Mabel home,&nbsp;to be with&nbsp;Himself and freeing her from&nbsp;her pain, suffering and batten&nbsp;disease.&nbsp; This year I am grateful that she didn't have to suffer from the 'fireworks in her brain' as we always described her seizures to the kids.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This independence day I was grateful for His goodness, as I am every day.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">He is faithful in never leaving us.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Our victory in surviving the pain&nbsp;without her is rooted in Him, together.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><h3 style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">“These things I have spoken to you, that in Me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world.” --John 16:33</span></strong></h3><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div>http://www.rameelinlarson.com/2015/07/4h-4th-of-july-together.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (rameelin)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719485298486668964.post-2908873157878019493Sun, 21 Jun 2015 14:22:00 +00002015-06-21T09:22:51.436-05:00Father's Day 2015<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-MuICe0yKiL4/VYW8u8QybpI/AAAAAAAAfRE/CheiNneBAD4/s640/blogger-image--267585097.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-MuICe0yKiL4/VYW8u8QybpI/AAAAAAAAfRE/CheiNneBAD4/s640/blogger-image--267585097.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">This Father's Day post is excruciating for me to write.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">In some ways I don't even want the men who I'm celebrating to read it quite yet. </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Not yet, guys; maybe not today.&nbsp; Today may be too hard.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I don't know where to start, which is somehow a first for me.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I don't where to start except for to say that I have the greatest dad in the world.&nbsp; And I mean it.&nbsp; When celebrating strong father's; strong men-he is who I think of.&nbsp; Today I cried in the Walgreens card aisle because there is just no way to put into words what I feel for him today and every day.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-u-fWVa4aRso/VYW-9mw1QxI/AAAAAAAAfSI/-ug3ikDwN4w/s1600/IMG_4452.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-u-fWVa4aRso/VYW-9mw1QxI/AAAAAAAAfSI/-ug3ikDwN4w/s640/IMG_4452.JPG" width="425" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;My dad is a rock.&nbsp; He is steady.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">When looking back on my childhood I will remember one thing:&nbsp; when things got hard in a marriage, our home, or just in life- </div><div style="text-align: center;">My dad stuck it out.</div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">Not everyone can say the same thing.&nbsp; And yet here I sit with my parents still married and a dad who has carried me, as an adult woman, in more ways than most dad's will ever have to rise up and carry their children.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HNORGgx4Ws8/VYW_KWV3CPI/AAAAAAAAfSQ/QzKZrMDuje0/s1600/IMG_2414.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HNORGgx4Ws8/VYW_KWV3CPI/AAAAAAAAfSQ/QzKZrMDuje0/s640/IMG_2414.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;Jeni, Jake and I have always been incredibly lucky for the kind of man our dad is.&nbsp; He's the kind of man who is known, respected, appreciated.&nbsp; He is the kind of man in our community whose word means something.&nbsp; He's the kind of man that&nbsp;my kids will&nbsp;grow up and learn from.&nbsp; He has strength, fortitude, integrity, valor, loyalty and patience.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sFN33zO3dac/VYW_aCzxcFI/AAAAAAAAfSY/iwb8nlTzx0s/s1600/IMG_2907.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sFN33zO3dac/VYW_aCzxcFI/AAAAAAAAfSY/iwb8nlTzx0s/s640/IMG_2907.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;My dad is also an incredible grandpa and always has been.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">But what kind of card can explain&nbsp;the&nbsp;kind of grandpa;&nbsp;the kind of father my dad&nbsp;chose to be&nbsp;for me in the last 5 years?</div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">On this Father's Day my mind is overwhelmed by my Father in Heaven who has so orchestrated our lives.&nbsp; I know it is&nbsp;true for more reasons than I'd ever be able to share, based on my faith and on my life experiences.&nbsp; But I know so also because I have had my earthly father step in and rise up when other father's around me chose to bow out and walk away.&nbsp; I have seen him take on other men's responsibility in order to see this job as a father through in the right ways; the Godly ways.&nbsp; My relationship with my dad has been enriched by the loss of other relationships and for that, I am eternally grateful for it all.&nbsp; Without my dad, these last 5 years would have been impossible to walk.&nbsp; They would have literally been impossible to live through.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PkSMGGhWQnU/VYW__VWb-gI/AAAAAAAAfSg/KTU1ldtIQNw/s1600/IMG_3432.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PkSMGGhWQnU/VYW__VWb-gI/AAAAAAAAfSg/KTU1ldtIQNw/s640/IMG_3432.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Today, on&nbsp;the first Father's Day without our baby, my heart is broken for my own dad.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A man who stood at my right side, holding my leg during the birth of my last child.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My dad was in the room with me when she took her first breath.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><strong><em>My dad&nbsp;cut her cord.</em></strong>&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I looked at him and breathed a sigh of relief as he kissed my forehead and cried.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A few minutes later I handed her to him for the first time and my heart was never the same.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And he was in the room with me as she took her last breath.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I looked at him and breathed a sigh of relief as he kissed my forehead and cried.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A few minutes later I handed her to him for the last time and my heart will never be the same.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nwmFsZRwnQw/VYW-YLQcKtI/AAAAAAAAfRw/Gw5Lc3tXf8w/s1600/fathersday2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nwmFsZRwnQw/VYW-YLQcKtI/AAAAAAAAfRw/Gw5Lc3tXf8w/s640/fathersday2.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">To say it.&nbsp; To write it.&nbsp; To think it and re-think it.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I'm overwhelmed.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Mostly by the goodness of a God who set my girl into the hands of this loving man from the very beginning.&nbsp; She was pure from the start; in a way that I hadn't even realized until the finish.&nbsp; And maybe my dad doesn't realize it either, but on this day I want to remind him:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">When our God put her here, He entrusted her to me.&nbsp; But He did so through you.&nbsp; You rose up, dad, when He called to you be strength for me.&nbsp; You were a refuge in my dark days.&nbsp; I know you'll continue to be.&nbsp; Thank you just isn't enough.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ItWAVUDbQ8E/VYW-YB_5IdI/AAAAAAAAfRs/I0tfX3kQwO0/s1600/fathersday3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ItWAVUDbQ8E/VYW-YB_5IdI/AAAAAAAAfRs/I0tfX3kQwO0/s640/fathersday3.jpg" width="636" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">You are the greatest poopaw.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">You have never left our side.&nbsp; Even as&nbsp;she left my arms&nbsp;for Heaven and&nbsp;our weary&nbsp;hearts could hardly survive, you were with me.&nbsp; You just have never left me.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Thank you for being the kind of example that Nora and Braden need. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A father and a grandfather who shows up, never leaves, sticks it out,&nbsp;sees it&nbsp;through.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3fsSgSiiyxw/VYW-Y0JDD6I/AAAAAAAAfR4/0ZSmhSKjNus/s1600/fathersday5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a>&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3fsSgSiiyxw/VYW-Y0JDD6I/AAAAAAAAfSE/KriolSgV3jY/s1600/fathersday5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3fsSgSiiyxw/VYW-Y0JDD6I/AAAAAAAAfSE/KriolSgV3jY/s640/fathersday5.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I am so proud to be your daughter.&nbsp; So thankful that God chose you for me.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">You're exactly what I need and I hope to be the same for you.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I love you oh so much, dad.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KrqK2pLHedM/VYW-X4PLGsI/AAAAAAAAfRo/WET57ClGl_o/s1600/fathersday4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KrqK2pLHedM/VYW-X4PLGsI/AAAAAAAAfRo/WET57ClGl_o/s640/fathersday4.jpg" width="638" /></a></div><br /><div align="center">This year Mother's Day was so painful for me.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">I knew in my gut that it would be the last I would celebrate with all three of my children on earth.&nbsp; But I had no idea that I would feel so incredibly tormented over this Father's Day for the men in my life.&nbsp; </div><div align="center"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pim6IaLFlHc/VYXAbYbSjEI/AAAAAAAAfSo/GZOKdxMEL_c/s1600/IMG_4849.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pim6IaLFlHc/VYXAbYbSjEI/AAAAAAAAfSo/GZOKdxMEL_c/s320/IMG_4849.JPG" width="213" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qAkOxIIE_7M/VYXAzzHW8rI/AAAAAAAAfTQ/utc9V9jSdBc/s1600/IMG_4851.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qAkOxIIE_7M/VYXAzzHW8rI/AAAAAAAAfTQ/utc9V9jSdBc/s320/IMG_4851.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;It's only been three weeks.<br />I can't imagine waking up today and not being able to hold, smell, and kiss the child that you fathered and took care of for half of her life.&nbsp; <br />I quite literally can't fathom it.<br /><br />But I have watched Chris every day since he walked into our lives in amazement at how he lives and loves.&nbsp; Not just Mabel, but also&nbsp;Nora and Braden, each uniquely and each just how they need.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aJS0DxlSlSA/VYXAxgS-r8I/AAAAAAAAfTI/aMFxm6y_1GQ/s1600/IMG_2406.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aJS0DxlSlSA/VYXAxgS-r8I/AAAAAAAAfTI/aMFxm6y_1GQ/s640/IMG_2406.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div align="center">Initially I didn't know if I would fall in love again in this lifetime.</div><div align="center">I had hoped to.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">I knew that I was deserving and that I had a lot of love that I could give to someone.&nbsp; But having three small children, being a single homeschooling mom (at the time), and having an extremely disabled, terminally ill child made the criteria for dating me a little less appealing, or so I believed.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">But he didn't.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A3ZI--5k1iM/VYXAdHkZ7EI/AAAAAAAAfSw/HJdAEWEOUxE/s1600/DSC_1861.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="512" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A3ZI--5k1iM/VYXAdHkZ7EI/AAAAAAAAfSw/HJdAEWEOUxE/s640/DSC_1861.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div align="center">Somewhere when I fell in love with him, he fell in love with her.</div><div align="center">Their love affair with one another was not only initial but undeniable.&nbsp; His presence, his energy; everything that I loved, craved and needed-she responded to as well and the two of them, right away became something I haven't ever quite seen before.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-B560V8zwhsY/VYXAexIvieI/AAAAAAAAfS4/6tU-3KLhfIQ/s1600/DSC_1871.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="512" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-B560V8zwhsY/VYXAexIvieI/AAAAAAAAfS4/6tU-3KLhfIQ/s640/DSC_1871.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">I can't fully explain what was brought into our lives when he entered but what I can say is this:</div><div align="center">On this Father's Day I celebrate him.</div><div align="center">For loving her in all the ways she deserved to be loved on this earth, and for allowing his heart to be open to whatever life was going to bring, knowing that it would ultimately mean losing her.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wuQ6KaRxoCk/VYXBFhDLW2I/AAAAAAAAfTY/pwAMa_hIihc/s1600/IMG_4333.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wuQ6KaRxoCk/VYXBFhDLW2I/AAAAAAAAfTY/pwAMa_hIihc/s640/IMG_4333.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MLgN9rWc6eo/VYXBUC3EnHI/AAAAAAAAfTg/TaolClH_DBA/s1600/IMG_4417.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MLgN9rWc6eo/VYXBUC3EnHI/AAAAAAAAfTg/TaolClH_DBA/s640/IMG_4417.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><div align="center">In the last two years of her life, Mabel had the right medications.&nbsp; The kind that allowed her to really be comfortable.&nbsp; There were still so many bad days but overall&nbsp;the goal for her&nbsp;life had changed from treatment to comfort and we embraced that.</div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">He got the best half of her life.</div><div align="center">And she, by far, got the best of him.</div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">That is a gift I can never repay.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8eFLlzDBMeE/VYXBd2B_OqI/AAAAAAAAfTo/6YyPXgn1hVY/s1600/IMG_4430.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8eFLlzDBMeE/VYXBd2B_OqI/AAAAAAAAfTo/6YyPXgn1hVY/s640/IMG_4430.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div align="center">On the bad days, he held her longer.</div><div align="center">His voice calmed her jerking body.</div><div align="center">He was patient, loving, gentle.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">He loved her in a way that every child deserves to be loved and demonstrated the kind of fullness that I believe God desires all of us to live out.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">But we are not all capable of that kind of love.&nbsp; I'm just so thankful he is.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yMMtZFW-sIo/VYXCBb3gb2I/AAAAAAAAfT4/eeXppuJlIu4/s1600/IMG_4437.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yMMtZFW-sIo/VYXCBb3gb2I/AAAAAAAAfT4/eeXppuJlIu4/s640/IMG_4437.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DGD-9Lh6r80/VYXB_pXV3lI/AAAAAAAAfTw/6PWU9u88rNE/s1600/IMG_4439.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DGD-9Lh6r80/VYXB_pXV3lI/AAAAAAAAfTw/6PWU9u88rNE/s640/IMG_4439.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div align="center">I struggle so much today knowing what to write and how to word it.</div><div align="center">Again, how&nbsp;can I articulate&nbsp;what transpires in our home each day?&nbsp; </div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">I am just thankful for a man who loves selflessly, teaches endlessly, and is a true partner to me.&nbsp; In these ways I am grateful that my children will grow up in a home where they see respect, honor, and patience with one another being practiced and truly lived out.&nbsp; But aside from one another, I pray they'll see it in our parenting of them as well.&nbsp; And I hope they'll look back and be grateful.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K89UGO5S070/VYXCIXUhGQI/AAAAAAAAfUA/nV7tYeIxQ5I/s1600/IMG_5156.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K89UGO5S070/VYXCIXUhGQI/AAAAAAAAfUA/nV7tYeIxQ5I/s640/IMG_5156.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div align="center">Nora and Braden have a dad.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">Chris hasn't ever tried to take his place.</div><div align="center">He encourages that relationship and fosters the one that he has built with both kids.&nbsp; It is wholly different and altogether special.&nbsp; I am thankful and hope one day that the kids will be as well, to have so many people in their lives that love them.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-npu7DdwGfUo/VYXCtCWrRzI/AAAAAAAAfUM/0dBxGAuTvPk/s1600/IMG_5188.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-npu7DdwGfUo/VYXCtCWrRzI/AAAAAAAAfUM/0dBxGAuTvPk/s640/IMG_5188.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lVzwQUiqrwQ/VYXCvJGuVlI/AAAAAAAAfUU/pfpndTfUc4M/s1600/IMG_4705.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lVzwQUiqrwQ/VYXCvJGuVlI/AAAAAAAAfUU/pfpndTfUc4M/s640/IMG_4705.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WyHmY1DhhOM/VYXDIm5TMMI/AAAAAAAAfUc/iC7oXx3zpMI/s1600/IMG_4707.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WyHmY1DhhOM/VYXDIm5TMMI/AAAAAAAAfUc/iC7oXx3zpMI/s640/IMG_4707.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-x3anV92_sR4/VYXDsp7M0ZI/AAAAAAAAfUk/Pg0SlVl9PTs/s1600/IMG_4709.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-x3anV92_sR4/VYXDsp7M0ZI/AAAAAAAAfUk/Pg0SlVl9PTs/s640/IMG_4709.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NObJRcjLFDU/VYXDuwdb3nI/AAAAAAAAfUs/QwcU8eg-gDA/s1600/IMG_4736.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NObJRcjLFDU/VYXDuwdb3nI/AAAAAAAAfUs/QwcU8eg-gDA/s320/IMG_4736.JPG" width="213" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GPDJWn9R27c/VYXEGvXgOfI/AAAAAAAAfU8/8eNZmmijSxU/s1600/IMG_4744.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GPDJWn9R27c/VYXEGvXgOfI/AAAAAAAAfU8/8eNZmmijSxU/s320/IMG_4744.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><br /><div align="center">Today, because there aren't words for the very intimate details that we share about Mabel; her life or her death, I simply just want to say that I have never felt more lucky to know another human, let alone be in love with him.&nbsp; He is an incredible leader, a protector, a peacekeeper, and ultimately a really great dad.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">He never set out to be one.&nbsp; It wasn't in his life plan.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">But here they are and here he is and somehow it all makes sense.&nbsp; &nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-brrzLG1qo7k/VYW8zDygPyI/AAAAAAAAfRM/d15fOeqGrMk/s640/blogger-image-754694090.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-brrzLG1qo7k/VYW8zDygPyI/AAAAAAAAfRM/d15fOeqGrMk/s640/blogger-image-754694090.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-c0iAI76EEpQ/VYW8dZ0QDeI/AAAAAAAAfQk/lFI5idxTmOM/s640/blogger-image-1686760495.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="638" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-c0iAI76EEpQ/VYW8dZ0QDeI/AAAAAAAAfQk/lFI5idxTmOM/s640/blogger-image-1686760495.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-VCQeOeXINqg/VYW8l-WQQAI/AAAAAAAAfQ0/zoBIDyefkKM/s640/blogger-image-1238245770.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-VCQeOeXINqg/VYW8l-WQQAI/AAAAAAAAfQ0/zoBIDyefkKM/s640/blogger-image-1238245770.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-3HuixExjq-8/VYW86q7DnqI/AAAAAAAAfRc/hcNq24mKATA/s640/blogger-image-1060992293.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-3HuixExjq-8/VYW86q7DnqI/AAAAAAAAfRc/hcNq24mKATA/s640/blogger-image-1060992293.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div align="center">Thank you for loving her when it was hard.&nbsp; Loving her when it was beautiful.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">Loving her on earth and now in Heaven.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-W7GaRY8XQdc/VYXDvPZXFOI/AAAAAAAAfU4/gylI_bLjPzA/s1600/fathersday1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-W7GaRY8XQdc/VYXDvPZXFOI/AAAAAAAAfU4/gylI_bLjPzA/s400/fathersday1.jpg" width="398" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;Thank you for walking beside me this life; sometimes very twisted up, gritty, and downright hard.&nbsp; But hand in hand we've been doing it really well and I just know that there are such beautiful days ahead.&nbsp; I already believe these kids know just how lucky they are but I hope you know how deeply we love you.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-2v_irKOW0-U/VYW83G1dVwI/AAAAAAAAfRU/5mSMaDkfX0k/s640/blogger-image-1465482446.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-2v_irKOW0-U/VYW83G1dVwI/AAAAAAAAfRU/5mSMaDkfX0k/s400/blogger-image-1465482446.jpg" width="313" /></a></div><div align="center">Thank you for surrendering your life to something greater and knowing that through it all, this will be worth it.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">Thank you for your steadiness.&nbsp; Your patience.&nbsp; Your faithfulness.&nbsp; Your honesty.&nbsp; Your integrity that goes beyond any I have ever seen.&nbsp; Your laughter.&nbsp; Your humility.&nbsp; Your intelligence. </div><div align="center">All qualities that I cannot wait for my children to recognize and admire in you the way that I do.</div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">You were a great 'da' to our girl.&nbsp; I know she's shining down on you today, babe.</div><div align="center">Happiest Father's Day to the best man I know.</div><div align="center">I love you oh so much.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-GeQxxZ4wxm8/VYW8h25wkOI/AAAAAAAAfQs/hciMOC4tVAY/s640/blogger-image--1744712697.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-GeQxxZ4wxm8/VYW8h25wkOI/AAAAAAAAfQs/hciMOC4tVAY/s400/blogger-image--1744712697.jpg" width="342" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">To all the fathers, step-fathers, men who share no DNA but share such deep love, grandpas, step-grandpas, 'uncles,' brothers, and mommies who are being daddy's too-</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I hope today brings you together with the ones that you love and who are lucky enough to have you.&nbsp; Or I hope you were celebrated this weekend in the ways you so deserve.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><strong>"The righteous who walks in his integrity—blessed are his children after him!” -- Proverbs 20:7</strong></div>http://www.rameelinlarson.com/2015/06/fathers-day-2015.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (rameelin)3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719485298486668964.post-289555648095425379Fri, 19 Jun 2015 19:56:00 +00002015-06-19T15:02:36.607-05:00three weeks. <div align="center">It's been three weeks.<br />The days have come and gone strangely.&nbsp; Time&nbsp;doesn't seem to make&nbsp;sense anymore, which I've been told by several other moms who have lost children is perfectly normal.&nbsp; It may never make sense&nbsp;again.&nbsp; How can it feel like she was just here yet it feels as if this new normal without her has happened rapidly.&nbsp; It's conflicting and hard.&nbsp; But peaceful and good.&nbsp; <br />It's just altogether different.&nbsp; <br /><br />In the last 21 days I have done things with Nora and Braden that I haven't been able to do in 5 years.&nbsp; Not because I didn't want to.&nbsp; Simply because doing them was not only challenging but a lot of times emotionally taxing on all of us.&nbsp; I cried hard last week, curled up in my bed.<br />"I have to re-learn how to mother just these two kids.&nbsp; How am I going to do that?"<br /><br />Mabel was part of everything we did, but she made everything we did a little more complex.&nbsp; It's a strange feeling to jump in the car without equipment, feeding supplies and especially without my drooling girl.&nbsp; Oh I miss her so.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">&nbsp;---</div><div align="center">Nora is not wanting to be at home much-finding enjoyment with her friends, painting once a week with Harper and William's Grandma Connie, riding horses with Pawpy,&nbsp;and just staying busy.&nbsp; She's not talking much about her feelings or emotions but is talking often about her sister.&nbsp; She hopes that Mabel is doing all the things in Heaven that she is doing here on earth; such as horse riding.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">I hope that too.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">﻿</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-2_ejAaiL1S8/VXuciTIxRwI/AAAAAAAAeAQ/VlSiXUJrN4E/s640/blogger-image-983494989.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-2_ejAaiL1S8/VXuciTIxRwI/AAAAAAAAeAQ/VlSiXUJrN4E/s640/blogger-image-983494989.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div align="center">Our boy is sure having a harder time.&nbsp; He's incredibly emotional, impulsive, overly anxious and extremely angry.&nbsp; His feelings come out in rage.&nbsp; They manifest very high or very low.&nbsp; His doctor has seen him, we're on the same page, but managing his emotions with the rest of our home has been a challenge this week especially.&nbsp; Unlike his sister, he doesn't want to leave the house.&nbsp; Almost not at all.&nbsp; He enjoys being with his friends but there are only a select few that he will go spend time with.&nbsp; We've tried to keep him busy but mostly he wants to be in his room.&nbsp; He's crying a lot.&nbsp; <br />He misses his girl.&nbsp; ﻿</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-p8fVXN1pX4I/VXuct0URtBI/AAAAAAAAeAo/tO_pZL9FMos/s640/blogger-image--2057999286.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-p8fVXN1pX4I/VXuct0URtBI/AAAAAAAAeAo/tO_pZL9FMos/s640/blogger-image--2057999286.jpg" width="360" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;Both kids have been with us to the cemetery.&nbsp; Nora wanted to go first and seemed to feel at ease right away at 'Mabel's spot.'&nbsp; This spot also just happens to be where my Nanny and Uncle are buried.&nbsp; Nanny and Mabel share a beautiful bench with a beautiful angel atop.&nbsp; The angel holds a detailed dove in her hands, as she looks toward Heaven and when you walk behind her, you almost gasp at the fact that she's barefoot.&nbsp; Our girl never wore shoes a day in her life.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It's literally perfect.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-6sthOgldAvI/VXucVuhFVUI/AAAAAAAAd_4/wNT4ubMiQIE/s640/blogger-image-1007056124.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-6sthOgldAvI/VXucVuhFVUI/AAAAAAAAd_4/wNT4ubMiQIE/s640/blogger-image-1007056124.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div align="center">Braden wasn't quite ready to venture to the cemetery when his sister was but was super brave a few nights later right as it was getting dark.&nbsp; We got out together.&nbsp; He walked around, asked me to pray and then told me that he was good and asked if could I leave him alone for a few minutes.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">I did.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">When he returned to the car he blew her a kiss, let out a sigh and said, "Ok.&nbsp; I feel better now."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-MjKSqri1gIE/VXuc5_sgW9I/AAAAAAAAeBA/J8e5f4IEu80/s640/blogger-image-76295242.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-MjKSqri1gIE/VXuc5_sgW9I/AAAAAAAAeBA/J8e5f4IEu80/s640/blogger-image-76295242.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div align="center">&nbsp;Nora and I&nbsp;have been&nbsp;out together&nbsp;to&nbsp;our garden.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">Uncle Mike and Nora planted tomatoes, onions, peppers, green beans and more in our front yard garden just a couple of days before Mabel died.&nbsp; I watched from the window as my little girl dug deep in the dirt and planted food that will grow.&nbsp; Food that will nourish us.&nbsp; I watched her step across a place in the earth that I knew deep down would become a sanctuary for the two of us.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">And that has certainly already&nbsp;proved to be true.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">A few days ago I found us; she on one end, in the hot hot sun and me on the other, covered by the shade.&nbsp; We talked some, argued some and were quiet some.&nbsp; All very typical of our relationship.&nbsp; Mostly I was grateful that no matter what we were doing, we were doing it together.&nbsp; I hope that's what she will look back and remember.&nbsp; She and I and the earth just weeks after her sister died.&nbsp; We dug deep, pulled weeds at their roots, and locked eyes in love.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">Hard, rugged, mucky love.&nbsp; ﻿</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-MyhsBdU-1rA/VXucSBQMXGI/AAAAAAAAd_w/8NRPINZpbFw/s640/blogger-image-167261719.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-MyhsBdU-1rA/VXucSBQMXGI/AAAAAAAAd_w/8NRPINZpbFw/s640/blogger-image-167261719.jpg" width="554" /></a></div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;Late one night this week I lost all control and let myself feel all that I needed to feel.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">That she's really gone.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">And she's really not coming back.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I wanted&nbsp;so badly, in desperation to drive to where her body lays and&nbsp;claw at the ground with my fingernails, all the way to her until she was no longer covered by the earth and her hair rested&nbsp; across my shoulder once again.&nbsp; But the truth is, that deep need for her is always going to be just an ache that I cannot quench.&nbsp; A desire, a need that I cannot fulfill.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">She isn't here.&nbsp; And she really isn't there.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">My girl has been with Jesus for 21 days.&nbsp; Oh what a joy for her that must be. </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">﻿</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">﻿</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-jYv4NqyOWcE/VXucaCqj32I/AAAAAAAAeAA/7rs2EbBL2do/s640/blogger-image-590634607.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-jYv4NqyOWcE/VXucaCqj32I/AAAAAAAAeAA/7rs2EbBL2do/s640/blogger-image-590634607.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div align="center">﻿</div><div align="center">There was a loving tribute written about Mabel and I and her life's journey in our local newspaper this week.&nbsp; It was such an honor to read someone's portrayal of our life together.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">It was ours together, after all.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">She was an extension of me.&nbsp; She was dependent wholly on me.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">She was my baby.&nbsp; And the loss of her is so physically repulsive to my being because I'm so used to having her on me at all times.&nbsp; Literally draped over me.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">Oh I miss the weight of her.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">At the end of the beautiful column written about Mabel's life, the author talked about how I am still mothering two young children and how I know what it means to continue to live for them.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">He is right and so I am trying every day to help them to really do the same.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">Live while missing our girl.&nbsp; ﻿</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-KQ7b0X75aqU/VXucOk-vFDI/AAAAAAAAd_o/inCgqDZcPVE/s640/blogger-image-1117924513.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-KQ7b0X75aqU/VXucOk-vFDI/AAAAAAAAd_o/inCgqDZcPVE/s400/blogger-image-1117924513.jpg" width="300" /></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-qdklzDweAxg/VXubxbdxirI/AAAAAAAAd_Y/lKvQZvRWmQI/s640/blogger-image--16172416.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-qdklzDweAxg/VXubxbdxirI/AAAAAAAAd_Y/lKvQZvRWmQI/s400/blogger-image--16172416.jpg" width="274" /></a></div><div align="center">﻿</div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">I see them smiling and I hear their laughter and I am reminded that I must go on.&nbsp; They deserve the mom that I am.&nbsp; The kind of mom that Mabel helped shape me to be.&nbsp; The kind of mom who is present, does not take a moment for granted, and can be fully in this life with them.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">I cannot lie, though, mothering the two of them has always been a challenge and now as the days have passed since their sister left us, it has proved to be no different.&nbsp; Their moods are unpredictable, their sadness comes rapidly (as does mine) and yet they are really still just trying to be normal kids in the midst of a really not-normal life.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">I'm just so proud of them every single day.&nbsp; I really can't express it enough.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-WB62x4Wf4WE/VXucexrvdOI/AAAAAAAAeAI/8aQzoC3r4CY/s640/blogger-image-1948025533.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-WB62x4Wf4WE/VXucexrvdOI/AAAAAAAAeAI/8aQzoC3r4CY/s640/blogger-image-1948025533.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ONu1tZOqS34/VXucqAOEGnI/AAAAAAAAeAg/cNxD40EBuuo/s640/blogger-image-779339012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ONu1tZOqS34/VXucqAOEGnI/AAAAAAAAeAg/cNxD40EBuuo/s400/blogger-image-779339012.jpg" width="300" /></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-GJJbUatSDqA/VXucxovR5KI/AAAAAAAAeAw/bsKSEv4myAk/s640/blogger-image-1234973746.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-GJJbUatSDqA/VXucxovR5KI/AAAAAAAAeAw/bsKSEv4myAk/s400/blogger-image-1234973746.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">So unlike I have read in other instances, time has not stood still for us.&nbsp; In fact, time has moved very rapidly since the moment Mabel left my arms for Heaven.&nbsp; Time is a thief in the way that it just never stops moving along.&nbsp; In so many ways it forces us to do the same and in so many ways it robs me of really important moments that I need to grieve and mourn the way I feel is necessary.&nbsp; But I can see in the every day moments how we are healing.&nbsp; How, together, this family is growing and strengthening.&nbsp; But the in-betweens that people do not see; the every day talks, questions and breakdowns-those are no joke.&nbsp; Those are intense, intimate parts of this walk that don't get talked about often enough.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">If you will just continue to pray for the kids, I would so appreciate it.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">My grief feels all too familiar.&nbsp; There's is just beginning and it's a hard thing to walk beside them in, all while doing it myself.&nbsp; They have incredible therapists and doctors who are helpful in all the right ways but the void just can't ever be filled for them.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">It's the most heartbreaking thing I'll ever have to write about, or live through.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">In our real life, they lost their sister at the ages of 8 and 7.&nbsp; Trauma like that is intense for a heart.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">But our God has proven to be so faithful in every single detail and I know He will continue to be throughout their lives as they learn to cope with the reality of being without her.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Thank you for your unending love and support.&nbsp; It means more than you'll ever know.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I am grateful every day for the friendships made here, all while sharing Mabel's extraordinary story of life, hope and Heaven.&nbsp; What an honor to be her mom {and theirs.}</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-LfvqR7_4ekg/VXucl-nfFiI/AAAAAAAAeAY/zH_fxwIzTng/s640/blogger-image-1081022279.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-LfvqR7_4ekg/VXucl-nfFiI/AAAAAAAAeAY/zH_fxwIzTng/s640/blogger-image-1081022279.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>http://www.rameelinlarson.com/2015/06/three-weeks.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (rameelin)2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719485298486668964.post-1292539210341789896Fri, 05 Jun 2015 16:16:00 +00002015-06-05T11:16:02.516-05:00peace. grief. a week. <div style="text-align: center;">One week has passed since I've laid my eyes on her.&nbsp; I almost can't fathom.&nbsp; For nearly five years this little girl was draped over me like a beautiful, vibrant, comforting quilt.&nbsp; And now, in her place, simply peace.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">So far my friend grief has stayed at a distance.&nbsp; I can feel him looming; watching.&nbsp; Waiting for the perfect time when just he and I can be alone with one another.&nbsp; I met eyes with him early one morning this week and late last night.&nbsp; But he has been polite.&nbsp; Typically he is not.&nbsp; I am grateful that instead of being invasive during this time he has allowed peace to hold me as I crawl out of bed or look into the mirror.&nbsp; Her arms feel far more like home.&nbsp; Though, they're both familiar.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">Grief and peace.</div><div style="text-align: center;">The two things that are wholly mine.</div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">I recognize them.&nbsp; I find comfort in both of them.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">I have learned to rest in peace and rest in grief.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Play in peace and play in grief.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Smile in peace and smile in grief.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Mourn in peace and mourn in grief.</div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">Many don't realize that the two can coexist.&nbsp; I feel them almost interacting with one another to complete this entity inside of me that is greater than my own breath.&nbsp; They're palpable.&nbsp; They're nurturing.&nbsp; They're healing.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Grief.&nbsp; And Peace.</div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">One week ago today my girl met Jesus.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">Oh to know she's resting.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">There's nothing quite like the joy that has overtaken my spirit for my baby.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">She endured more than any one person should ever have to endure.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">I knew the moment I first looked at her sweet face that she was not created for here.&nbsp; She was meant for so much more.&nbsp; I was honored to be her mom every single day.&nbsp; She made me a better human. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Every day I miss her.&nbsp; The ache is so large I can't quite explain.</div><div style="text-align: center;">But every day I am thankful for the intimate life we shared; she and I, almost as one.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">She will always be my baby and the hero of my heart.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-P41DZ7SzLSg/VXHK0bv0drI/AAAAAAAAd_A/SPESu0R0Qz0/s1600/IMG_4142.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-P41DZ7SzLSg/VXHK0bv0drI/AAAAAAAAd_A/SPESu0R0Qz0/s640/IMG_4142.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div>http://www.rameelinlarson.com/2015/06/peace-grief-week.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (rameelin)1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719485298486668964.post-9036798799787875007Tue, 02 Jun 2015 15:33:00 +00002015-06-02T10:33:14.547-05:00Mabel Audrine 2010-2015<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PVz8oF1axpo/VW3JUUmupUI/AAAAAAAAd-c/BOp3fKLt8ZQ/s1600/DSC_1936.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PVz8oF1axpo/VW3JUUmupUI/AAAAAAAAd-c/BOp3fKLt8ZQ/s1600/DSC_1936.jpg" /></a></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: large;">Early morning, Friday May 29th, Mabel Audrine peacefully left my arms on this earth for the arms of her Maker in paradise.&nbsp; Our hope of Heaven has provided us a deep peace and we are grateful for the undending rest that Mabel has received and wholly deserves.&nbsp; Because of her pure heart, Mabel knew the way to the place Jesus has promised for all of us and we are confident that her life and legacy will leave all who knew her with a great assurance of a beautiful, spotless&nbsp;eternal home.&nbsp; A place where our girl now lives, free of her disease.&nbsp; </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: large;"></span>&nbsp;</div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: large;">"And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you may also be where I am.&nbsp; You know the way to the place where I am going."</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: large;">-John 14:4</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: large;"></span>&nbsp;</div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: large;">We want to thank you for your love, kindness, prayers and condolences over the last couple of days.&nbsp; Many have asked about services for our girl.&nbsp; Our family privately laid her to rest Friday evening in the most intimate way with her siblings and her tiny friends releasing yellow balloons in her honor.&nbsp; We know many of you want to show your love and support to our family.&nbsp; Please consider honoring Mabel by making a memorial donation to the bdsra in her name.&nbsp; </span></div><div align="center"><a href="http://www.bdsra.org/"><span style="font-size: large;">www.bdsra.org</span></a></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: large;"></span>&nbsp;</div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: large;">At this time please continue to respect our privacy; we have felt nothing but peace in the quiet with one another.</span>&nbsp; </div><div align="center">﻿</div>http://www.rameelinlarson.com/2015/06/mabel-audrine-2010-2015.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (rameelin)19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719485298486668964.post-2471447985973313239Sun, 17 May 2015 16:27:00 +00002015-05-17T11:29:07.816-05:00life puke. <div align="center">The weeks seem to become more of a blur.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">Spring has arrived, the trees are in bloom, the tulips have already appeared and withered away.&nbsp; It's hot; humid, stuffy.&nbsp; The kids are anxious for school to be out for summer while I'm a little more nervous about what the days with them will look like.&nbsp; I'm excited to have them home and hope we have the chance to make some really great memories here.&nbsp; It's just that the happy high I was on for quite awhile has faded and the heavy grief has swooped back in.&nbsp; And not just for me, I see it in them too.&nbsp; The worry and wonder.&nbsp; It's our life so I think it goes unsaid often, but we all feel it.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">The kids attempted the carnival yesterday.&nbsp; Braden puked and Nora was on the verge.&nbsp; I had to laugh because that seems so very typical of how our life is.&nbsp; The fun and excitement of something lasts for a time before we all get hit with the twirling,&nbsp;dizzy reality and we find ourselves at one point or another&nbsp;standing around on hot pavement barfing.&nbsp; I couldn't help but watch them literally puking and think of the irony; the figurative spilling our guts out over life's wicked ride.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">This week has been another really tough week for me.&nbsp; Better in some ways, harder in others.&nbsp; It took a long time for me to finally write it when&nbsp;Mabel stopped sucking and taking a bottle because I knew in my heart&nbsp;what changes were to follow.&nbsp; Now I'm here, just weeks into those changes and it's still overly difficult every single day to face the new reality we are in.&nbsp; I look back and I almost can't wrap my mind around the fact that my once healthy-looking baby is so very sick.&nbsp; But then I have to try and comprehend that even when she was healthy looking (and in a lot of ways acting), I knew she was this sick.&nbsp; It's a lot to wrestle with.&nbsp; </div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-small;">[photos from 3 years ago]</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-NG-Qw_EsZK8/VVi0jR8PndI/AAAAAAAAd9U/Kge-xfsn5VY/s640/blogger-image-1395901383.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-NG-Qw_EsZK8/VVi0jR8PndI/AAAAAAAAd9U/Kge-xfsn5VY/s640/blogger-image-1395901383.jpg" width="448" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-NZanA9s4fys/VVi0KP5ZoBI/AAAAAAAAd80/yMijddUUMQY/s640/blogger-image-1294230807.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="443" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-NZanA9s4fys/VVi0KP5ZoBI/AAAAAAAAd80/yMijddUUMQY/s640/blogger-image-1294230807.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div align="center">So where are we now? <br />Well the changes are drastic.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">Mabel's tummy isn't absorbing her food properly.&nbsp; She went from eating 8 ounces, 5 times a day to eating 5 ounces, 3 times a day.&nbsp; Essentially she cut her feeds in half.&nbsp; And now, of the 15-20 ounces a day that she is getting, she is only absorbing about 9-10 ounces of that.&nbsp; She isn't absorbing her meds properly from what we can tell and she has now vomited several times in the past week which she hasn't done in well over a year.&nbsp; ﻿</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-InowY3hJ2Ig/VVi0N6G28nI/AAAAAAAAd88/E6NBlvkq1bw/s640/blogger-image--1209955550.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-InowY3hJ2Ig/VVi0N6G28nI/AAAAAAAAd88/E6NBlvkq1bw/s320/blogger-image--1209955550.jpg" width="286" /></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-2A2McwT7w6I/VVi0BFF3y7I/AAAAAAAAd8k/gP8fhXHLUWo/s640/blogger-image-1474336875.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-2A2McwT7w6I/VVi0BFF3y7I/AAAAAAAAd8k/gP8fhXHLUWo/s320/blogger-image-1474336875.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Her body that was once so jerky and agitated has stilled.&nbsp; For the most part her body is very calm, without medication, which is a strange thing to experience.&nbsp; For almost 5 years I have watched in horror as her body has twitched and jerked and then suddenly, nothing.&nbsp; I think back to the batten disease conference that we attended last summer and asking several parents what medications their children were taking to make them be so relaxed and when they answered, 'nothing,' I was almost horrified.&nbsp; It was helpless for me knowing that no medication had helped Mabel and yet these kids were still on their own.&nbsp; What was I going to do?&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Most of the parents remembered a time when their child had jerked in those ways but said that at some point they just stopped.&nbsp; It was a phase that they no longer really remembered, thankfully.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">In that way, I think my prayer for mercy has been answered but I almost hate to speak too soon.&nbsp; She has still been agitated as far as crying goes but a new medicine seems to be helping some, though it takes hours to kick-in when truly, it shouldn't.&nbsp; I've got the timing down now so by noon each day we are in a little bit better way.&nbsp; A couple hours of screaming compared to twelve is truly nothing at this point.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Last night after the house was quiet and I was just up alone with my thoughts, I snuck in her room to check on her.&nbsp; Typically I try not to do this as to not wake her but she had puked before bed and I wanted to be sure she was propped up and safe.&nbsp; Her color had me worried and I checked her respirations.&nbsp; She stirred just slightly, but with a smile.&nbsp; I climbed up in bed beside her and put my ear to her little chest and laid for a long time and wept over my baby.&nbsp; I felt her start tapping and heard her giggle as I cried.&nbsp; Normally I'd be so careful not to wake her but in these last few weeks I'm just so thankful to see her awake at any chance I can get because for me there is an urgency to see her eyes as often as possible.&nbsp; I held her for a very long time, wiping my own tears and her saliva.&nbsp; She turned her head gently to one side and her heavy lids consumed her.&nbsp; As I watched her sleep, I silently thanked God for her.&nbsp; All of her.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">And all of this.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">﻿</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-XiA8pekvaNM/VVi0FYu0EpI/AAAAAAAAd8s/h0VZayoyWMs/s640/blogger-image--1887202060.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-XiA8pekvaNM/VVi0FYu0EpI/AAAAAAAAd8s/h0VZayoyWMs/s640/blogger-image--1887202060.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Every day that she wakes is a really great day.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Though they are only going to get harder, they are still incredible.&nbsp; I am locked in and really ready for the road ahead but it sure doesn't come without total consumption.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My body literally aches from the sadness and exhaustion.&nbsp; It is difficult to eat, difficult to sleep.&nbsp; The emotional energy that I've worked so hard to store up for such a time as this is being spent rapidly.&nbsp; But I'm amazed at the grace that is poured out over me each morning.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">God is really faithful in carrying me through each day.&nbsp; And He shows up even when I'm cussing him on a country road all alone.&nbsp; He shows up in my anger and frustration, in my filthy, self-consumed sadness.&nbsp; He shows up in my belief or doubt.&nbsp; He shows up and brings a peace I can't explain.&nbsp; </div>It's all over her and I pray, all over me.&nbsp; <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Because death is part of life and the journey toward Heaven can be beautiful.&nbsp; The suffering that I have watched her endure is nothing compared to the joy that she will one day experience. I think she knows that as much as I do.&nbsp; I pray I can be as strong in these comings days, weeks, months, or years that she is with us as she has been all along.&nbsp; She inspires me every day, without even trying.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-kUyWy19SW8M/VVi0f55_IuI/AAAAAAAAd9M/9rYnOmIyaFE/s640/blogger-image--1829855892.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-kUyWy19SW8M/VVi0f55_IuI/AAAAAAAAd9M/9rYnOmIyaFE/s640/blogger-image--1829855892.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Thank you to everyone who is reaching out to me.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Your texts, cards, calls--I so appreciate them.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I'm a little inside of myself lately and I am grateful that you're patient and that you understand.&nbsp; I am thankful that you're faithful to love me through it and see me on the other side of it all.&nbsp; That is the most profound proof of love and I'm so lucky to have such amazing friends, near and far.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div>http://www.rameelinlarson.com/2015/05/life-puke.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (rameelin)4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719485298486668964.post-5263495160797470059Mon, 11 May 2015 16:59:00 +00002015-05-11T11:59:17.296-05:00post mother's day thoughts. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The week leading up to Mother's Day was excruciating for me.&nbsp; Every holiday is hard; the unspoken doom that it could be the last we share with Mabel.&nbsp; But this is the first holiday since her body has shown obvious signs of change and it just happened to be Mother's Day.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I can't explain what it feels like to be&nbsp;right smack dab&nbsp;in the middle of grief again, so unexpectedly.&nbsp; Just when you think you have a handle on yourself, on how you feel-the familiarity of the&nbsp;lonely, the sad and the&nbsp;isolation sweep back over you and before you know it you can't breathe from all the sadness.&nbsp; All the reality.&nbsp; All the pain.&nbsp; Before you know it, you look around and the world looks different again.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It's the fog.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It's the people talking and laughing while you feel as if you're drifting above them, invisible.&nbsp; But not invincible.&nbsp; No, no...you're very overly aware&nbsp;of mortality.&nbsp; Yours and the ones you love so dearly.&nbsp;&nbsp;Yet, you feel as if you're the only person experiencing such heaviness.&nbsp; The truth is, I know now, that you're not.&nbsp; In fact everywhere you look someone is wrapped up in something painful.&nbsp; Someone is going through unspeakable hell inside of themselves as well.&nbsp; But you feel alone.&nbsp; You feel like no one could possibly understand what's happening in your home, your heart or your babies body.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">People's laugher is painful.&nbsp; Trivial even.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And that leaves you feeling bitter and cold for the moments that you are swept up in it.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Luckily for me, the grief subsides.&nbsp; It isn't lasting like it once was.&nbsp; There are still moments of clarity and genuine happy.&nbsp; In those moments I am able to be sensible; remembering that though this is our reality, it isn't everyone's.&nbsp; This is the hand that we've been dealt and though difficult, it's also beautiful.&nbsp; The challenge is finding that merciful balance.&nbsp; Recognizing the grace moments while enduring the really terrible truths that we face.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">---</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Mother's Day ended up being a&nbsp;really great day.&nbsp; I woke up late to breakfast in bed, homemade cards, and gifts from my children and the man I love.&nbsp; The day was slow, easy.&nbsp; The sun was shining and the wind blew gently across my face.&nbsp; I breathed deeply and inhaled all that is good.&nbsp; Purposing to remember this day; this Mother's Day with all of my children.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mXYJQEIAg0A/VVDDTHoAPlI/AAAAAAAAd74/25cA076CMf4/s1600/IMG_5222.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mXYJQEIAg0A/VVDDTHoAPlI/AAAAAAAAd74/25cA076CMf4/s640/IMG_5222.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Another mother who has endured loss reminded me in a text that death doesn't change that she is a mother or that she feels that deep love.&nbsp; 'The day is always beautiful', she said.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I needed that.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Her strength gives me hope.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Later in the day I learned that one of our batten friends died at 3:30 pm.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">On Mother's Day.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">He was one year older than Mabel, looked just like her, and was loved incredibly by his mom, dad, and older sister.&nbsp; He died in their care at home and will be greatly missed.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My heart is shattered again.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I took pictures of my own boy yesterday and silently thanked God for his life.&nbsp; I prayed that God would spare him and Nora from sickness, and instead give them a long life of health.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I feel like, at the very least, they deserve that.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Ah,&nbsp;we all deserve that.&nbsp; </div>&nbsp;<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nNOap1Ng_Ok/VVDCwwbcCVI/AAAAAAAAd7o/QLdOdWESxxw/s1600/IMG_5227.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nNOap1Ng_Ok/VVDCwwbcCVI/AAAAAAAAd7o/QLdOdWESxxw/s640/IMG_5227.JPG" width="640" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;My heart broke for Nora in a hundred other ways yesterday.&nbsp; But thankfully I got to spend a lot of alone time with her.&nbsp; A lot of good talks, laughing and relaxing.&nbsp; I am so thankful for her.&nbsp; She's so smart.&nbsp; So in tune to me..</div><div style="text-align: center;">My prayer is that I can be the same to her and meet her every need along the way.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZVOFUMOdXJ0/VVDC0BdGDqI/AAAAAAAAd7w/d2Hc3ZgHBLo/s1600/IMG_5230.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZVOFUMOdXJ0/VVDC0BdGDqI/AAAAAAAAd7w/d2Hc3ZgHBLo/s640/IMG_5230.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div align="center">Mother's Day is hard for many people, I've learned.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">My heart seemed to be extra sensitive to that yesterday.&nbsp;</div><div align="center">Mothers are beautiful life-givers; a unique breed of human.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">Thank you to the wonderful moms all around me.&nbsp; You give me courage to go on, move forward, survive and love.&nbsp; ﻿</div>http://www.rameelinlarson.com/2015/05/post-mothers-day-thoughts.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (rameelin)1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719485298486668964.post-833070548363456691Sat, 09 May 2015 16:41:00 +00002015-05-09T11:41:26.071-05:00Mother's Day: Who Am I Mothering?<div align="center">The very purpose of this space was always to chronicle my life as a mother so that one day my children could look back and see our life as a reminder of what we did, who we shared it with and the joy we had along the way in their journey of childhood and my journey of mothering them.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">And then Mabel was born and my writing shifted, as did my life in it's entirety.&nbsp; My soul had a great need to purge feelings and emotions for survival during these emotionally heavy years with her.&nbsp;&nbsp;And even though the writing shifted and the mood here is different, I&nbsp;still believe&nbsp;Nora and Braden will be grateful for that.&nbsp; It's very telling of how our lives evolved over time.&nbsp; Not only myself, but them as well.&nbsp; Life has a brilliant way of growing and changing us-always always for the better.</div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">So&nbsp;now,&nbsp;on&nbsp;Mother's Day weekend I would like to share a little&nbsp;bit about the children&nbsp;I am mothering.&nbsp; &nbsp;These incredible little humans; who are they now?</div><div align="center">----</div><div align="center">Nora Elaine Larson.&nbsp; 8 years old.&nbsp; 3rd grade.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">My morning "diddler," bacon eater, chocolate milk slugger.&nbsp; She is a perfectionist down to her core.&nbsp; She spends an entire hour in front of the mirror before school (much like her aunt Jeni) to get every single hair exactly in it's proper place.&nbsp; Drives this low-maintenance mommy crazy!&nbsp; She is a cat lover, a horse rider.&nbsp; She gets straight A's and is a rule follower at school.&nbsp; At home, she is a button-pusher, and a back-talker.&nbsp; She is incredibly independent.&nbsp; She is ultra mature for her age and is a listener of all things adult.&nbsp; She enjoys being where the conversation is grown up but you can find her hidden away in her room when she needs time to decompress.&nbsp; Emotionally she is a hold-it-all-in kind of girl, though it has gotten better in the last several weeks and even she feels good about that.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">Nora loves to be outside.&nbsp; She will play in the dirt, is intrigued by nature and loves all things animal.&nbsp; She is a good eater and enjoys most things we try (and will try almost anything.)&nbsp; She gets excited about girl things such as having her nails done, wearing lipstick (wonder where she gets that?) and flaunting perfume.&nbsp; She enjoys baking, though we don't do it as often as I'd like.&nbsp; Art is her favorite and she's incredible at it!&nbsp; Whether it's drawing a picture to express how she's feeling or writing poems and songs that fill notebook after notebook, this girl is talented!&nbsp; </div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">She's a late-nighter and a late-riser if the opportunity arises for her&nbsp;to be.&nbsp; She loves to go camping with her poopaw and shoot bows with Uncle Jake.&nbsp; She has hundreds of freckles on her face, a deep love for justice, Jesus, and mercy, She shows an interest in anything intellectual.&nbsp; She enjoys music and dancing but has a hard time carrying a tune or keeping a beat.&nbsp; She loves fiercely but has a hard time forgiving.&nbsp; She gets her brother in trouble often and is bothered by him daily.&nbsp; She is Mabel's greatest comfort and I find that she most enjoys laying in&nbsp;bed with her, or being wrapped up on the couch together.&nbsp; She's quite the little mommy, wanting to help with medicine, diaper changes or feedings and at any given chance.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">She is a deep thinker.&nbsp; She has great common sense and wisdom.&nbsp; She is passionate about God and doesn't waiver in her ideas about Him.&nbsp; She is a fast runner and a fast talker.&nbsp; She is picky about her clothes and is just not interested in boys.&nbsp; She loves to spend time alone, just she and I.&nbsp; Nora has the most tender heart and is full of compassion for others.&nbsp; She sees and understands the world in a way that will make her a great teacher or a great doctor one day, I'm sure.&nbsp; Though she says she wants to be a "bird scientist."</div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">Nora is my freckled-face, first born, love of my life.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">She is a beautiful, funny, wild, impatient, yet tender, extra sensitive and easily&nbsp;tearful.&nbsp; She is everything I ever prayed for wrapped up into one little girl.&nbsp; She is all I ever dreamed about when I thought of being a mother.&nbsp; She has always been the 'light' of my life (the meaning of her name), and the joy of my heart.&nbsp; On this Mother's Day, she is as always, one of my greatest gifts.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">﻿</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-hfWIZEj63T4/VU4WdhdxbRI/AAAAAAAAd7M/Bd5H02qcYXg/s640/blogger-image--13224151.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-hfWIZEj63T4/VU4WdhdxbRI/AAAAAAAAd7M/Bd5H02qcYXg/s640/blogger-image--13224151.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div align="center">Braden Eugene Larson.&nbsp; 7 years old.&nbsp;&nbsp;1st grade.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">Early morning riser.&nbsp; Loud noise maker.&nbsp; Dog cuddler and nonstop runner.&nbsp; He is my fast talking, fit throwing, laugh at everything boy.&nbsp; My one and only boy.&nbsp; Unlike his sister, he spends an entire hour before school laying in bed before time to leave.&nbsp;He then gets dressed in the clothes that I lay out for him and wears the shoes that I tie for him.&nbsp; He is less than independent.&nbsp; He is a lover of home and doesn't want to spend any time away from me.&nbsp; He is a picky eater, specializing in the every day home-made packed lunch of pb&amp;j, chips and juice.&nbsp; He is musically talented in a way that I think only young musicians are.&nbsp; He can remember the lyrics of a song after hearing them just one time.&nbsp; Though he seems aloof, he is a deep thinker.&nbsp; Also unlike his sister, he says what he feels, almost immediately.&nbsp; He cries often, daily even.&nbsp; He is highly emotional and very dancy.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">Braden is incredibly tender and sensitive to those around him.&nbsp; His feelings are easily hurt and though he's learned a few skills on how to cope with that, he is still easily affected by others.&nbsp; He is often angry, mostly mouthy, always funny, and downright handsome.&nbsp; He enjoys having his hair spiked before school and playing legos for hours when he gets home.&nbsp; He is an entertainer.&nbsp; He is a friend-maker.&nbsp; He loves to bug and annoy his sister but doesn't like consequences for any action.&nbsp; He has a hard time being told 'no,' and a fit usually follows.&nbsp; He loves root beer, loves superheroes and loves Jesus.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">Braden has always and still has the most gentle heart.&nbsp; He loves everyone in a way that most would envy.&nbsp; He is easily scared, easily frustrated but easily forgives.&nbsp; He doesn't retreat from a situation like his sister, rather he stays in it, pushes through it.&nbsp; He is very teachable because though you feel like he isn't listening, he is and he always remembers.&nbsp; He doesn't like sports.&nbsp; He doesn't like authority.&nbsp; He loves small trinkets that he can hold in his hands or put in his pockets.&nbsp; He is good in school but less worried about grades than about socializing.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">No one can make Mabel belly laugh the way that he can.&nbsp; He sings to her constantly and calls her his "baby girl."&nbsp; He wants to be a cop when he grows up and has a few small crushes, though he doesn't want to talk about it.&nbsp; He is my freckle-faced, only boy, 'broad valley' (the meaning of his name) of delicate and stubborn qualities.&nbsp; This boy is a gift from God, one I never knew I needed but has completed the parts in me that needed a good reason to wake up every day and keep going.&nbsp; He's demanding, frustrating and yet oh so fulfilling.&nbsp; He makes mothering hard and humbling every day.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">On this Mother's Day, I am reminded that he is one of the greatest gifts that God could have entrusted me with and though I mother him differently, I pray that I would continue to have wisdom on how to do so, so that he can go on to be a man of integrity and loyalty.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-tykxODqAIzs/VU4WVEMB3jI/AAAAAAAAd68/ryAIGlisiLI/s640/blogger-image-2016307071.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-tykxODqAIzs/VU4WVEMB3jI/AAAAAAAAd68/ryAIGlisiLI/s640/blogger-image-2016307071.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div align="center">Mabel Audrine Larson.&nbsp; 4 years old.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">My brown eyed, curly haired, forever infant.</div><div align="center">She is a barely sleeping, always screaming, used to be body jerking, and bottle drinking babe.&nbsp; Now she is back to being a super lethargic, sometimes smiley, 17 pound sweetheart.&nbsp; Like both her sister and brother, she adores music.&nbsp; She loves the bark of a dog and the wind in her hair.&nbsp; She still enjoys long stroller rides but not like she once did.&nbsp; She responds to my voice immediately.&nbsp; She loves to suck on her hands and chokes easily on her own spit.&nbsp; She doesn't sleep without several medications and would go days at a time with no sleep if she didn't have them.</div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">Mabel screams.&nbsp; But she also smiles.&nbsp; She doesn't like to be held much anymore and it's actually gotten much harder to do so.&nbsp; She loves her brother's dinosaur noises and her sisters gentle voice.&nbsp; She still fits into 3-6 month pants that now double as shorts/capris.&nbsp; Generally she wears long footy pajamas and loves to have her feet smelled.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">She loves Millie and perks up when she's around.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">She can't poop on her own, loves to be rocked in a rocking chair, calms when Chris holds her, loves her Aunt Jeni and Uncle Jake in such special ways and is the absolutely joy of our lives.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">Mabel's name means love.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">There is nothing greater in this world than the love she shows, is given and continues teaching.&nbsp; She is the most pure form of love I have ever seen and to be her mom feels like my great reward in life.&nbsp; I am honored every day with the privilege of being her mother.&nbsp; The sadness, and&nbsp;the suffering pales in comparison to the sunshine she is.&nbsp; She is everything I ever hoped for and yet couldn't have understood I needed.&nbsp; Mabel, even when screaming has the most calm and gentle spirit of anyone I have ever encountered.&nbsp; She is a direct and perfect gift from God.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">On this Mother's Day, I am thankful for the love of Mabel.&nbsp; ﻿</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-o_HI28BNAik/VU4WPdleuUI/AAAAAAAAd60/jGONEc9OrM0/s640/blogger-image-666677976.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-o_HI28BNAik/VU4WPdleuUI/AAAAAAAAd60/jGONEc9OrM0/s640/blogger-image-666677976.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div align="center">The humans I'm mothering are incredible.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">Beautiful.&nbsp; Smart.&nbsp; Curious.&nbsp; Fun &amp; Funny.</div><div align="center">They are the reason I am living; my purpose and my joy.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">This Mother's Day is definitely different for many reasons but the one thing that remains the same is my total adoration and appreciation for these children.&nbsp; Whatever life brings, I know they are mine to love and care for and encourage and guide.&nbsp; I also know that they are borrowed from my Savior and are mine for only a time.&nbsp; I'm grateful that the time is now.&nbsp; Every day is a true and precious gift.&nbsp; ﻿</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-jaQaKP9dQTM/VU4WaA2QHmI/AAAAAAAAd7E/n9iaXrC0g-0/s640/blogger-image-1934706042.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-jaQaKP9dQTM/VU4WaA2QHmI/AAAAAAAAd7E/n9iaXrC0g-0/s640/blogger-image-1934706042.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>http://www.rameelinlarson.com/2015/05/mothers-day-who-am-i-mothering.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (rameelin)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719485298486668964.post-5974690912729961078Thu, 07 May 2015 14:15:00 +00002015-05-07T11:14:14.628-05:00Dearest.<div align="center">Dear Nora &amp; Braden,</div><div align="center">These past couple of&nbsp;weeks have been hard on us.&nbsp; All of us.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">Your sister has been&nbsp;violently screaming non-stop and though it's&nbsp;not unusual and&nbsp;you're used to it, I can see the stress in all of us vividly.&nbsp; Braden, when you plug your ears and Nora, when you whisk yourself away to your room where you can escape, alone.&nbsp; This is very telling of you both:</div><div align="center">Braden finds a way, whatever it is, to trudge through a situation.&nbsp; Nora retreats.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">It's intricate and beautiful to see really, the way you both cope with life and stress and pain and fear and sadness.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-E_HC8IuZk5Q/VUEoHLtmKTI/AAAAAAAAd5w/4dYy7z9hERw/s640/blogger-image--850415247.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-E_HC8IuZk5Q/VUEoHLtmKTI/AAAAAAAAd5w/4dYy7z9hERw/s320/blogger-image--850415247.jpg" width="240"></a><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Bey0FyWPC3o/VUEoD-WyREI/AAAAAAAAd5o/of1a3bG8aRA/s640/blogger-image--1274057559.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Bey0FyWPC3o/VUEoD-WyREI/AAAAAAAAd5o/of1a3bG8aRA/s320/blogger-image--1274057559.jpg" width="240"></a></div><br><div align="center">The two of you have known since I have known that your sister is dying.&nbsp; Though, we don't live as if she is. &nbsp;Up until these last several weeks- Mabel, screaming or not screaming, seizing or not seizing, puking or not puking, has always gone where we go.&nbsp; She is part of the life that we live in every way.&nbsp; This has made our life both fulfilling&nbsp;and frustrating in most situations.&nbsp; Our normal is all you know.&nbsp; You do not notice when other kids seem sad or conflicted over the way your sister looks.&nbsp; To you, she's just yours.&nbsp; And that is the greatest gift I have learned in this entire journey.&nbsp; To love the way that the two of you love.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">Unconditionally, without restraint, or restriction.&nbsp; She is ours and that is that.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">We love her.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">I have always promised to be honest with you in this journey.&nbsp; With every change, I have taken the time to explain it to you in a way that you both understand and accept.&nbsp; We have walked it all together, no matter how difficult or hard it has been.&nbsp; When Mabel stopped drinking a bottle, I explained that to you.&nbsp; When she has new seizures, typically you recognize them before I have to tell you what's happening.&nbsp; This week I had to explain to you that Mabel's tummy isn't working exactly the way it should be working and in stride, you gracefully understood and we moved on.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">It's a beautiful relationship that we have, guys, to be able to talk about life and death in an open dialogue.&nbsp; Most families are not comfortable enough with their ideas about either to do so.&nbsp; We are really lucky to have that with each other.&nbsp; I have thought from the beginning and maintain to this day that it will be our honesty that will bind us together in these very hard times.&nbsp; When you can be honest and real through life's most gritty and painful situations, you can walk through anything.&nbsp; Feeling is key.&nbsp; Expressing is a close second.&nbsp; And any and everything that you feel or express is perfect and safe with me.&nbsp; </div><div align="center"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-JtuPMfZy3FM/VUEoOL6jVpI/AAAAAAAAd6A/_Lbbr_Iw5r4/s640/blogger-image--1069296835.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="638" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-JtuPMfZy3FM/VUEoOL6jVpI/AAAAAAAAd6A/_Lbbr_Iw5r4/s640/blogger-image--1069296835.jpg" width="640"></a></div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Nora and Braden, your sister isn't well.&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">She is living out the exact definition of 'suffering,' day after day.&nbsp;&nbsp;That is horrific for me to have to write.&nbsp; But I know you already know because again, you're living it with me.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Watching, listening, Helping.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">We are doing everything that we can do to help make her comfortable.&nbsp; Some days it works and sometimes it doesn't even come close.&nbsp; It's incredibly painful; the ups and the downs.&nbsp; It's also confusing for all of us, including you, because there are days when your sister looks really 'well.'&nbsp; She appears beautiful and 'normal.'&nbsp; But we have to try hard to remember that her normal is still not our normal.&nbsp; There's still seizing and crying, biting and choking.&nbsp; It's still awful even though we've grown used to it.&nbsp; And sadly, over the last several weeks, even on the days when she looks remarkably well, her body has started showing signs of contradiction.&nbsp; Inside doesn't match the outside sometimes.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">And I know that's going to be hard for you to understand.&nbsp; I know that when she is smiling or laughing you can't possibly grasp that her body is slowly shutting down.&nbsp; I know because I can't grasp it either.&nbsp; My intellect fails me.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">One day, ultimately, I can only pray that you&nbsp;will look back on this and see the refining that is happening in our hearts.&nbsp; I hope that you see my unwavering love and trust in God.&nbsp; I pray that you understand mercy in a way that only we can because we are daily&nbsp;receiving it.&nbsp; Mercy isn't at all how it's defined on this earth.&nbsp; It shows up differently in our hearts.&nbsp; There's no explaining it but I know you feel it.&nbsp; I look at you, and I know.&nbsp; I hope that one day you will reach out to God, not with resentment or bitterness, but instead with total and full surrender.&nbsp; Total and full gratefulness.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">He is good.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">He has a place for your sister, waiting.&nbsp; An eternal home where she will be well and rested.&nbsp; I believe she will be whole in Heaven; whatever that means for her.&nbsp; Because I think she is perfect now, just the way she is.&nbsp; Not flawed or sick.&nbsp; But perfect.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">So whatever perfection looks like in Heaven, that is what I believe she will be.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">There are many ideas of life and there are many ideas about death, kids.&nbsp; And that is ok.&nbsp; In more recent years I have started to be more curious and inquisitive about those things.&nbsp; About people's ideas surrounding death and life.&nbsp; I just read a quote today, in fact, by a young mother and author&nbsp;that simply says, </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">"There are as many ways to be dead as there are to be alive."</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I just want you to know that you will encounter many people in your life that believe differently about life.&nbsp; About death.&nbsp; About life after death.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Please be kind enough to listen and curious enough to explore that thinking for yourself.&nbsp; No one is going to have walked in your shoes or shared your experience.&nbsp; They will have walked their own path and lived their own life, leading them to their own conclusions.&nbsp; Along the way it is likely that your hearts will hurt for people who do not share your own ideas or beliefs because you will want them to know of the peace and the love that you know.&nbsp; You will want them to have a richness and joy about both life and death.&nbsp; I pray you will at least.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">And if I do my job, as your mother, correctly, then you will feel&nbsp;those exact emotions about both.&nbsp; So I pray that God helps me to help you right now and always in this journey with your sister that is so entangled in life (being alive on earth,) and death (being alive in Heaven, away from us.)</div><div align="center"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-wx57xtjdkEA/VUEoK-n_ZLI/AAAAAAAAd54/1Zvz9UBMR6c/s640/blogger-image--2014809370.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-wx57xtjdkEA/VUEoK-n_ZLI/AAAAAAAAd54/1Zvz9UBMR6c/s640/blogger-image--2014809370.jpg" width="640"></a></div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;During&nbsp;the week leading up to what&nbsp;could potentially&nbsp;be the last Mother's Day I share with all three of my&nbsp;children, I want you both to know:</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;I have never been more proud or more grateful to be your mom.&nbsp; And even with all the sadness and difficulty, I have never been more thankful to be able to care for and love your sister.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">She&nbsp;has always and continues to teach us so much.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">There are times when she is screaming, bub, that she stops and looks right up at you, knowing the noises that only her brother makes.&nbsp; In the midst of her agony, you can bring a smile to her face.&nbsp; That is a gift that God gave you Braden!&nbsp; He equipped you to bring joy in sorrow.&nbsp; Happiness in suffering.&nbsp; I know that he will use you to do remarkable things one day because your spirit is rooted in Him.&nbsp; I see the calm that washes over Mabel when you enter a room and&nbsp;I feel forever thankful that she has you as a brother!</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">And Nora, Mabel feels most safe in your arms.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">She adores you and calms for you.&nbsp; I watch the two of you together and my heart literally beats out of my chest for the love you share.&nbsp;&nbsp;It&nbsp;is everything I wanted for&nbsp;your life; the kind of&nbsp;devoted and&nbsp;secretive&nbsp;connection that only sister's have.&nbsp;&nbsp; Though, if I'm being honest, sometimes I feel the most sad for you.&nbsp; But I do pray that you never feel that way.&nbsp; I pray that Mabel fulfills in you all that you desired from a sister.&nbsp; You're absolutely perfect together.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7wrqHrMk0Dw/VUtf-NNIV7I/AAAAAAAAd6g/p8dN95aLIXw/s640/blogger-image--344987335.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7wrqHrMk0Dw/VUtf-NNIV7I/AAAAAAAAd6g/p8dN95aLIXw/s640/blogger-image--344987335.jpg" width="640"></a></div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Nora, just yesterday you looked at me and said you just wanted Mabel to be safe and sound with me while you're at school.&nbsp; I could see in your eyes the worry that you must carry every day.&nbsp; You aren't alone in how you feel&nbsp;baby, in fact,&nbsp;a couple of days ago I walked into your brother's bedroom to wake him and tell him something, &nbsp;he let out a sigh of relief followed by, "I thought you were going to tell me that Mabel had died."</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">My heart sank hard and fast&nbsp;but all I could do in that moment&nbsp;was reassure him, like I'm reassuring you now, that I will always be honest with you.&nbsp; If I think that God is going to take Mabel to Heaven, you will know it.&nbsp; We will be together.&nbsp; You will never have to wake up without her.&nbsp; You will not have to go to school&nbsp;worried that&nbsp;when you get home she will not be here.&nbsp; I will make sure that we are all together and you are&nbsp;with her right up&nbsp;until we just no longer can be.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I promise, baby.&nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I love you both more than I could every elegantly write.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">You are the heartbeat of my life.&nbsp; Everything I have ever done or will ever do is because of you.&nbsp; Though our load is sometimes heavy I want you to always remember that we don't have to carry it alone.&nbsp; Two days ago, I laid my head on the shoulder of my mom and wept as she prayed over me.&nbsp; I am a grown woman but I am thankful for the respite I have in my own mom, your nanny, even now.&nbsp; I will always be with you to comfort you, strengthen you, pray with you and&nbsp;over you, and encourage you.&nbsp; You don't have to walk any part of this life alone.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I'm trusting in God.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I'm leaning into Him.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;I'm here for you, always.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">We aren't ever alone.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">With Love,</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Mommy.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div>http://www.rameelinlarson.com/2015/05/dearest.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (rameelin)2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719485298486668964.post-8224777040305922374Tue, 28 Apr 2015 16:03:00 +00002015-04-28T11:03:11.409-05:00anguish. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-8kk0ciE3-cc/VT-fILhPDqI/AAAAAAAAd5U/mxusAjATzw4/s640/blogger-image-996102185.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-8kk0ciE3-cc/VT-fILhPDqI/AAAAAAAAd5U/mxusAjATzw4/s400/blogger-image-996102185.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My fingernails are bloody from picking and biting.&nbsp; A trait that my Nanny left me, anxiety visible all over my hands.&nbsp; I'm in a fog.&nbsp; A heavy, strange fog.&nbsp; It lifts slightly in the morning as the sun is rising and the day is new but as soon as she wakes, the wretching and screaming begins and I am reminded.&nbsp; Yesterday it was 10 hours&nbsp;of non stop screaming&nbsp;except for a few moments of random, neurotic giggles; the kind that are more like seizures than genuine results of happy.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I don't think most people&nbsp;know&nbsp;this or recognize it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The fact that anguish walks around among you.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;It's hidden beneath smiles and "I'm good, thanks for asking's."&nbsp; It is in front of you in the check out line and beside you at a stop light.&nbsp; Anguish smiles and fidgets through the days.&nbsp; It walks and eats and breathes inside of bodies that are weary, frightened and conflicted.&nbsp; Anguish reveals itself in uncertain moments.&nbsp; Sometimes crying in the parking lot after leaving the check out line; sometimes late at night in the bathtub alone.&nbsp; Sometimes anguish is visible on the faces of people you love, when the burden weighs heavy and the choices are hard.&nbsp; Sometimes anguish hides beneath denial, coping to survive just one more day before the bridge breaks and the ground collapses undertow.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Anguish causes broken skin around fingernails.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Biting and picking and nerves&nbsp;actually&nbsp;aching.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Anguish causes dark circles.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">From pure&nbsp;exhaustion, from deep sadness and heaviness of the&nbsp;truth.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Inside of all of us lies&nbsp;sadness.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;Uncertainty.&nbsp; Humiliation.&nbsp; Devastation.&nbsp; Anger.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But all of those stand high above the pit that is anguish.&nbsp; All of those emotions can be coped with, walked through, bounced back from.&nbsp; I know because I've experienced every one of them, as have we all.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />But truly, and gratefully, anguish is a rare emotion.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It is this guttural, palpable, etched so deep inside, unmistakable, relentless emotion that is unlike any other.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It causes the fog.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The bleeding fingernails.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The dark circles.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The constant churning inside of your gut that may never go away.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It's a sort of torment for your soul.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Agony.&nbsp; Distress.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">You see, anguish is exactly the opposite of that which we all hope to feel day to day; comfort, pleasure and joy.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Often times my own mother has explained to me that when I am in pain, she is in pain.&nbsp; When I have made bad choices for my life, she has felt them deep inside of her.&nbsp; When I was physically hurting and away from her, she 'knew it' without knowing of it.&nbsp; And here I am, thirty years old with a very sick baby of my own and I finally understand that.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My Mabel cannot speak to me.&nbsp; She cannot&nbsp;explain the extent of her pain, her torment, her physical anguish.&nbsp; She cannot tell me what it feels like to lose her vision, be unable to swallow, not poop on her own, have her muscles tighten for hours at a time, have her brain seize almost constantly, or what it feels like to have that same brain be actively shrinking as it continually, like a computer, shuts down piece after piece of her little body.&nbsp; She cannot tell me with words.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But I watch her scream and her body arch.&nbsp; I hold her as she stiffens to the point where I almost cannot.&nbsp; I drain her belly as it cannot hold as much food and causes her intense discomfort.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And I know the anguish.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And for her, I feel it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And for me, I feel it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I feel so sorry for her.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I feel so sorry for me.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And together we are so exhausted.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Yesterday was 10 hours of screaming.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Anguish that stairsteps down from one child to her mother, from that child to her mother.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We are all together and depending on one another but it's incredibly sad.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It's incredibly hard.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">As I captioned a photo a few days back, "Question and re-question every decision.&nbsp; Think and re-think every symptom.&nbsp; Pray and pray more.&nbsp; Breathe and eat.&nbsp; Take a run.&nbsp; Drink coffee.&nbsp; Hot bath.&nbsp; Reach for his hand, steal a hug.&nbsp; Cry.&nbsp; Laugh.&nbsp; Repeat."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I forgot: sleep.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Though I am trying.&nbsp; And she is more.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We are in it and in it together.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Dark circles, churning guts, bloody fingernails, anguish and all.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">One day at a time, as always.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div>http://www.rameelinlarson.com/2015/04/anguish.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (rameelin)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719485298486668964.post-4878498240817298599Mon, 20 Apr 2015 18:09:00 +00002015-04-20T16:32:55.590-05:00Uncertain territory<div align="center">It's troubling when the one thing that used to save you, free you even, is now the last thing that you want to do.&nbsp; Because truly how can one write the painful truth of the every day when it's so heavy that the words fall short?&nbsp; They are far too flat.&nbsp;Even the most exquisite and descriptive vocabulary couldn't explain the pain, fear, sadness and downright cruelty of what happens in the hours that make up our days.&nbsp; I no longer need to try to understand it and I'm very close to not being able to fully explain it.&nbsp; The details are all a blur.</div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">She woke from the long sleep with one small smile.&nbsp; Forced, but there.</div><div align="center"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-B2m1aZjrlIY/VTU0OwHbTUI/AAAAAAAAd4s/eru4Iy4nXgw/s640/blogger-image--1582954079.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-B2m1aZjrlIY/VTU0OwHbTUI/AAAAAAAAd4s/eru4Iy4nXgw/s640/blogger-image--1582954079.jpg" width="640"></a></div><div align="center">And then she moved swiftly into 6 days of the most wretched, gut turning cry you have ever heard.&nbsp; It seemed as if she was in pain, but typically she doesn't feel or respond to pain. Long ago I had to stop driving myself mad&nbsp;trying to figure out what was wrong and just treat the crying.&nbsp; But nothing 'treats' the crying.&nbsp; Nothing in the world stops this child from crying.&nbsp; <br>Her brain causes the cry.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">And her brain <em>and only her brain</em> stops the cry.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-6GIcc43rgAY/VTU0WIJXlfI/AAAAAAAAd48/woRj_kTStpU/s640/blogger-image-1179592800.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-6GIcc43rgAY/VTU0WIJXlfI/AAAAAAAAd48/woRj_kTStpU/s640/blogger-image-1179592800.jpg" width="640"></a></div><div align="center">We did notice that she had thrush so we treated it.&nbsp; A little numbing of the mouth and some good meds seemed to take it away after about 2 days.&nbsp; But the crying went on.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/--03-JySihC8/VTU0FkBaJuI/AAAAAAAAd4U/O2kYnR_G8Rs/s640/blogger-image--1883591521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/--03-JySihC8/VTU0FkBaJuI/AAAAAAAAd4U/O2kYnR_G8Rs/s640/blogger-image--1883591521.jpg" width="640"></a></div><div align="center">I, too,&nbsp;cried every single one of those days.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">I have never seen her body so stiff or rigid.&nbsp; I have never seen her muscles be so flexed, seem so strong.&nbsp; And yet I have to look at her and reckon that on the other hand, I have never seen her look quite so weak.&nbsp; Quite so very different and weak.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-wojLf5dYxxs/VTUztAJixvI/AAAAAAAAd4E/30BLg_uTfsU/s640/blogger-image-1077115783.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-wojLf5dYxxs/VTUztAJixvI/AAAAAAAAd4E/30BLg_uTfsU/s640/blogger-image-1077115783.jpg" width="640"></a></div><div align="center">Not long after she stopped taking her bottle, her swallowing ability decreased.&nbsp;The amount of saliva in her mouth has increased because she isn't able to adequately swallow it all.&nbsp; There's a lot of drool and a lot of choking, all of which is new and scary.</div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">Last week sometime it occurred to me that she has also fully stopped giving me any hunger cues.&nbsp; So now I am feeding her strictly by schedule, along with reading what her body needs.&nbsp; I'm keeping close watch on her gastric residuals as to not continue feeding her if at any time her stomach stops processing food.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-G3C_hcUFdik/VTU0Lj21NHI/AAAAAAAAd4k/4IwyTk0yU5I/s640/blogger-image-1166429035.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="638" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-G3C_hcUFdik/VTU0Lj21NHI/AAAAAAAAd4k/4IwyTk0yU5I/s640/blogger-image-1166429035.jpg" width="640"></a></div><br><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">For several weeks my stomach has been in a 'knowing knot.'&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I have watched the physical signs of her decline and I have noted each of them closely in my heart.&nbsp; I have yet to fully write it all.&nbsp; I have yet to fully express the depth of it all or the immense and utter turmoil it causes my soul.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">All I know is that I do not want my baby to suffer.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">And this disease causes nothing but suffering.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Mabel herself brings so much joy and is purely peace.&nbsp; But what I see when I look into her 6 day screaming eyes is a wicked&nbsp;disease running wild throughout her body.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">It infuriates me and there are times I think I might physically vomit at the very knowing.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">But the knowing is what keeps me going.&nbsp; The knowing of the disease, the extensive and detailed knowledge of this thing inside of her is what pushes me forward.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I know what it is doing in her because I am an expert on this disease and Mabel.&nbsp; I watch her breathe so frequently that I believe if she stopped and I was nowhere near, my heart would beat out differently in that moment.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">But I am near.&nbsp; I am always near,&nbsp;almost breathing the&nbsp;very breath that she is breathing, I am so close.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp; I know when she has an infection because I know the exact smell of every inch and every part of this little girl's body.&nbsp; I know when her cry means that she has to poop because I am the one who assists her in doing so, each and every single time.&nbsp; I know when she has thrush because I know the typical color of her tongue.&nbsp; When something is abnormal, I am so attentive to this little girl that I will know it.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">And I will catch it because where batten disease rages in the realm of uncomfortable, I am in the business of making my baby comfortable.&nbsp; Where it acts, I counteract.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I am not about earthly&nbsp;healing for&nbsp;Mabel.&nbsp; I am not about fixing her.&nbsp; I am even beyond treating the symptoms that are so untreatable.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">But I am about making sure that while there is breath in her lungs, she will&nbsp;feel rest and comfort and peace. &nbsp;She will lay in my arms and look up at me with eyes that cannot see and know that she is loved beyond a doubt.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-8mI8iwvC33g/VTU0Sf_zkDI/AAAAAAAAd40/X86jWSi9tow/s640/blogger-image--363756769.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-8mI8iwvC33g/VTU0Sf_zkDI/AAAAAAAAd40/X86jWSi9tow/s640/blogger-image--363756769.jpg" width="640"></a></div><div align="center">I'm at the most helpless part of the journey.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">I can't articulate whether or not I think she's dying and yet I cannot fully say that I don't think so.&nbsp; I just know that we have all noticed the change and we all feel a little uneasy, slightly unsteady with each day.&nbsp; It all feels like unknown territory.</div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">I am not scared or sad about the prospect of Mabel's death.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">It is everything leading up to her dying that is terrifying.&nbsp; All of this that&nbsp;we're already living and walking through&nbsp;is what is most horrible about this disease.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">It takes away the abilities that she once had and by doing so it reminds you that it is also slowly taking her.&nbsp; It reminds you that this brain inside of her is wasting away while she sleeps and is stealing from her everything that keeps her alive.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">At least scientifically and medically speaking that is what's happening.</div><div align="center">But every day we depend on Love and we are reminded that God created us <em><u>all</u></em> perfectly in His image.&nbsp; That He is the creator.&nbsp; He alone&nbsp;numbers not only the hairs on our heads but also the days in our lives.&nbsp; I look at my beautiful girl sleeping and I don't see the thief, batten disease.&nbsp; I see the giver of life, Jesus.&nbsp; I know that she is far too perfect for this world and that He has a plan to heal her fully in eternity.&nbsp;&nbsp;So I&nbsp;just hold her, and in the quiet pray for mercy.&nbsp; </div><div align="center"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-4AStJOqRwOc/VTU0IiiycsI/AAAAAAAAd4c/pXix3lntK8c/s640/blogger-image--1018249069.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-4AStJOqRwOc/VTU0IiiycsI/AAAAAAAAd4c/pXix3lntK8c/s640/blogger-image--1018249069.jpg" width="640"></a></div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Thankful for every day-good and bad, that she is here.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">She is our greatest gift.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Being her mom is the most humbling and I would gladly do it for 100 lifetimes, if He would so choose to let me.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I am so grateful.&nbsp; &nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div>http://www.rameelinlarson.com/2015/04/its-troubling-when-one-thing-that-used.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (rameelin)3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719485298486668964.post-3550660889367057440Tue, 07 Apr 2015 21:52:00 +00002015-04-07T16:52:52.487-05:00The long sleep. <div align="center">It was the second day of the long sleep when I found myself curled up in my large bed, covered and weeping.&nbsp; The first day of her sleeping caught me off guard; worried, anxious and sudden, my mind ran wild.&nbsp; People came and went and all the while I said nothing.&nbsp; I pretended, to them, as if she were taking a nap or I had already put her to bed for the night.&nbsp; The reality, however, was that she had fallen asleep after a day of crying and she woke very little after that. </div><div align="center">For 56 hours in fact.&nbsp; ﻿</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-NPmWPqxsYAU/VSQrXdGxaII/AAAAAAAAd3k/B_uaUx0-h-w/s640/blogger-image--1477466622.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-NPmWPqxsYAU/VSQrXdGxaII/AAAAAAAAd3k/B_uaUx0-h-w/s640/blogger-image--1477466622.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">On day two of the sleep, the worry and anxiety turned to simple sadness.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">That this is our reality.&nbsp; That she could in fact go to sleep and maybe never wake.&nbsp; That I am going to have to bury my daughter.&nbsp; That this disease is changing her and will take her from me.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I repeated over and over that her actual death is not what worries or even saddens me.&nbsp; It is everything leading up to that point that is heartbreaking and terrifying because it is so very unknown.&nbsp; Not only to me, but for everyone.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">---</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I called my sister on the first day of the sleep.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I explained my frustrations, not being able to articulate what I think the slumber meant and yet knowing somewhere inside of myself what it must.&nbsp; What it probably does.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">What it must mean?&nbsp; What it probably does mean?</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Well all of the symptoms and the signs point to chemical, and physical shut down of her body.&nbsp; "If I were on the outside looking in&nbsp;at someone else's life while this was happening to their child with batten disease, I would form an opinion about it based on the symptoms," I told her.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp; She stopped eating by mouth 5 weeks ago, she has stopped giving me hunger cues altogether, and now she has fallen into a long sleep.&nbsp; Her body is entirely still, something out of the ordinary.&nbsp; And yet, I have no conclusive proof that her brain is, in fact, shutting her body down.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">The only proof I have is in my gut.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">The wrenching and non-digestive type of feeling.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">But as a mother, the ONLY mother and caregiver to this child, it is infuriating to me that I cannot and maybe will not be able to know when death is near.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Jeni expressed that she didn't want to go to work if we thought it was more serious than just sleeping.&nbsp; I explained that we had to be able to live.&nbsp;We have lived so fully with her and I want&nbsp; us all to carry that through.&nbsp; I want us to live, breathe, and wholly feel it all.&nbsp; I don't want us to sit for weeks at a time and hold vigil for her.&nbsp; We have lived and allowed her to live&nbsp;and I want us all to continue to do just that.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-sU2V6aQ01Bk/VSQrbDbgJsI/AAAAAAAAd3s/neluTnGhXUQ/s640/blogger-image-861828338.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-sU2V6aQ01Bk/VSQrbDbgJsI/AAAAAAAAd3s/neluTnGhXUQ/s400/blogger-image-861828338.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">So what does it mean that she came out of 12 hours of screaming only to go straight into a 56 hour period of sleep?&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I do not know.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">For some children, this is part of a very noteworthy decline, one that leads to a somewhat peaceful death.&nbsp; Not shocking, but just shocking enough because it is 'gradual and yet sudden,' as a good friend quoted to me this week.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">For other children, this is just another phase in this disease.&nbsp; I remember at the conference last summer being amazed at&nbsp;the number of&nbsp;children who&nbsp;were sleeping and were so still, with little to no movements like Mabel has, and I was in shock to learn that many of the were, in fact, not sedated.&nbsp; That was just a phase that they had moved into.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And I'm not sure if we are there, or if Mabel's disease is moving in that direction.&nbsp; All I know is that for 2 1/2 days straight I could barely get her to open her eyes.&nbsp; She was not medicated.&nbsp; She was simply sleeping.&nbsp; She was peaceful.&nbsp; She was calm.&nbsp; I was able to feed her through her tube, keep chapstick on her lips, change her diaper and even put her on my chest, all without her waking.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">All of this for a child whose brain has never prompted her to sleep on her own.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">So while the rest was welcome, and while seeing her peaceful was an amazing sight, indeed, it was incredibly worrisome and all new territory for all of us.&nbsp; The entire house felt different; heavy.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">﻿</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-XCF0r_qWyHE/VSQrQKNxLsI/AAAAAAAAd3U/e_ooaUs0FYU/s640/blogger-image--790566766.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-XCF0r_qWyHE/VSQrQKNxLsI/AAAAAAAAd3U/e_ooaUs0FYU/s400/blogger-image--790566766.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div align="center">So on day two, deep beneath my covers in the safety of my room, I let loose.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">I prayed and cried and prayed and cried.&nbsp; Somewhere in the day I found strength between tears and I managed to follow my own mantra about continuing to live, and I was able to go for a run.&nbsp; It was a 'grief run' for sure; the wind blowing and me knowing that it was, but not fully feeling it.&nbsp; It was one of those days where the rest of the world looks so happy, without a care, free and light, and in my heart I wish I could have screamed to the mountains everything that was &nbsp;happening in my beautiful, cozy little home with my beautiful, dying little girl.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">It's horrific really.</div><div align="center">The whole thing is horrific.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">But on Easter Sunday, I was determined to at least get her out of the house, sleeping or not sleeping, to be with our family and to break up the heaviness of the situation.&nbsp; She did wake up, though, not like her usual self.</div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">And even today, she's just not.&nbsp; She's awake, eyes open, but she is still.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">Calm.&nbsp; Quiet.&nbsp; Peaceful.</div><div align="center">All beautiful things that I have long prayed for.&nbsp; And yet my heart turns and aches at what it all may mean.&nbsp; Each change is so difficult to manage, so frustrating to try and understand.&nbsp; All I can do is lean on the ones who love me so greatly and the One who controls it all and trust that it will all be exactly the way that it is meant to be.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">Instead of trying so hard to figure it out, I'm trying so hard to not take her big, beautiful eyes for granted.&nbsp; I'm trying to smell her a little deeper.&nbsp; I'm trying to focus on being present with her while still living 'normally.'&nbsp; I'm trying to accept it all and worship a God who is bigger than any and all of my feelings because He placed them in me and He created me for this purpose.</div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">To be her mom.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">Life or death.&nbsp; Here, now, then and always.</div><div align="center">And it is the greatest gift I will ever receive.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">Today she is awake.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">So much is different and new, but she is awake and here with me.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">And for that very reason, I am thankful. </div><div align="center">﻿</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-E86E4vwvkOM/VSQrTlZMpyI/AAAAAAAAd3c/ojJ4cIyuQp8/s640/blogger-image-1691089257.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-E86E4vwvkOM/VSQrTlZMpyI/AAAAAAAAd3c/ojJ4cIyuQp8/s400/blogger-image-1691089257.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>http://www.rameelinlarson.com/2015/04/the-long-sleep.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (rameelin)6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719485298486668964.post-152433098081237225Mon, 06 Apr 2015 19:29:00 +00002015-04-06T14:31:31.941-05:00Easter 2015<div align="center">Monday came.</div><div align="center">Jesus left his tomb empty on Sunday, fulfilling His great promise and then, as expected, Monday fell upon the people.&nbsp; I can't imagine what that Monday felt like; both hopeful and heavy, I can only assume.</div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">Our Easter was beautiful.&nbsp;</div><div align="center">It was calm, light, colorful.</div><div align="center">The days leading up to it were heavy and hard, scary and emotional.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">But Sunday came and our baby woke up and Jesus' promise was strong and steady in my heart.&nbsp; It was refreshing to say the least.</div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">The sun shined brightly over our family, giving us a day together that we will always remember.&nbsp;</div><div align="center">My sister started the day with a really great surprise engagement announcement.&nbsp; I am so happy for her, and thankful the promise of all things new.&nbsp; The hope of what our future holds is encouraging and uplifting when the rest of me feels like life will always be sprinkled with some sort of sadness.&nbsp; And it might but there's beauty there too.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-8s0Gp9ezcfQ/VSLUl5NY1jI/AAAAAAAAdzs/6UbStmTIS7w/s640/blogger-image--1410787787.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-8s0Gp9ezcfQ/VSLUl5NY1jI/AAAAAAAAdzs/6UbStmTIS7w/s1600/blogger-image--1410787787.jpg" /></a></div><div align="center">Easter has always been one of my favorite holidays; both for it's spiritual significance and for it's very refreshing energy.&nbsp; On Easter morning, when you wake up, things just feel differently.&nbsp; The earth has made the last final turn from winter to spring and around that last little corner are yellow daffodils, red cardinals, blue jays and a whole lot of extra light.&nbsp; ﻿</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-S84Val8Cpec/VSLUsvuk51I/AAAAAAAAdz8/4mknCKYO-KM/s640/blogger-image-1059816824.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-S84Val8Cpec/VSLUsvuk51I/AAAAAAAAdz8/4mknCKYO-KM/s640/blogger-image-1059816824.jpg" /></a></div><div align="center">This Easter was no different.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">After a winter that was long and taxing for all of us with the worry of what it may hold for Mabel and for our family, spring has sprung and we woke with a certain knowing.&nbsp; Though, the few days prior to Easter were nothing short of challenging for our spirits.&nbsp; I learned in the quiet of our home just how comforting and beautiful this family is to one another.&nbsp; There is a gentleness that will guide us through whatever the days ahead may hold.</div><div align="center"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-Ps54jSMh1rM/VSLUpfzhzGI/AAAAAAAAdz0/FKu5EvLyM1k/s640/blogger-image--181941526.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-Ps54jSMh1rM/VSLUpfzhzGI/AAAAAAAAdz0/FKu5EvLyM1k/s1600/blogger-image--181941526.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-XYlJtEJCiYI/VSLUeYuSd8I/AAAAAAAAdzc/zzg16-K5mKc/s640/blogger-image--1492325880.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-XYlJtEJCiYI/VSLUeYuSd8I/AAAAAAAAdzc/zzg16-K5mKc/s640/blogger-image--1492325880.jpg" /></a></div><div align="center">What used to be babies ascending down the hallway with binkies and blankies are now really big kids, who light up my life.&nbsp; They are so smart and articulate, gentle and kind.&nbsp; Their hearts are good.&nbsp; This Easter was incredibly easy and fulfilling for all of us and I could truly see the happy on their faces.&nbsp; ﻿</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-AaSKbjKXa9A/VSLUiAFwM8I/AAAAAAAAdzk/r9rbMoDoKpw/s640/blogger-image--785543002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-AaSKbjKXa9A/VSLUiAFwM8I/AAAAAAAAdzk/r9rbMoDoKpw/s640/blogger-image--785543002.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GWMvvCfGk5w/VSLWrz8v2kI/AAAAAAAAd2A/RUPwxe5GE4s/s1600/IMG_5099.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tCMY6NAa42E/VSLWxW-RYeI/AAAAAAAAd2I/paUwTEpLVps/s1600/IMG_5100.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tCMY6NAa42E/VSLWxW-RYeI/AAAAAAAAd2I/paUwTEpLVps/s1600/IMG_5100.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2-J2MYabSBs/VSLW0abKVJI/AAAAAAAAd2Q/pcgnc9BIc1Y/s1600/IMG_5101.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2-J2MYabSBs/VSLW0abKVJI/AAAAAAAAd2Q/pcgnc9BIc1Y/s1600/IMG_5101.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-G88X-bM3ltk/VSLW3q83I_I/AAAAAAAAd2Y/3hH2E7KlmR8/s1600/IMG_5102.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-G88X-bM3ltk/VSLW3q83I_I/AAAAAAAAd2Y/3hH2E7KlmR8/s1600/IMG_5102.JPG" height="400" width="266" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LRq-PlBczS8/VSLW7yKVAtI/AAAAAAAAd2g/s-j1-C1DRqU/s1600/IMG_5114.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LRq-PlBczS8/VSLW7yKVAtI/AAAAAAAAd2g/s-j1-C1DRqU/s1600/IMG_5114.JPG" height="400" width="266" /></a></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VfiivFTcryc/VSLXDWQyk2I/AAAAAAAAd2w/6QQ12RrqI-A/s1600/IMG_5118.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VfiivFTcryc/VSLXDWQyk2I/AAAAAAAAd2w/6QQ12RrqI-A/s1600/IMG_5118.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6wKyTterpGI/VSLXBUY1eOI/AAAAAAAAd2o/E0fYod9WHas/s1600/IMG_5130.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6wKyTterpGI/VSLXBUY1eOI/AAAAAAAAd2o/E0fYod9WHas/s1600/IMG_5130.JPG" height="400" width="266" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xvzG5MMYvwA/VSLXFnbcpBI/AAAAAAAAd3A/uf2oz3VX9CY/s1600/IMG_5139.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xvzG5MMYvwA/VSLXFnbcpBI/AAAAAAAAd3A/uf2oz3VX9CY/s1600/IMG_5139.JPG" height="400" width="266" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Qt9DnC3qxhA/VSLXD3DqQsI/AAAAAAAAd20/UTJztXPxyGo/s1600/IMG_5134.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Qt9DnC3qxhA/VSLXD3DqQsI/AAAAAAAAd20/UTJztXPxyGo/s1600/IMG_5134.JPG" height="425" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;Family is family.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Sometimes it isn't blood or shared last names.&nbsp; Sometimes it's a group text with all the women in your life that have always and forever stood by your side.&nbsp; Sometimes it's the people who have chose life with you over life elsewhere.&nbsp; Sometimes it is all the people who share the same blood but haven't always gotten along, coming together because it's important.&nbsp; It matters.</div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">And&nbsp;yesterday our family did just that.&nbsp; We loved on everyone in our lives in the ways we could and needed to.&nbsp; It was a really great and special day.&nbsp; I'm so thankful and I will always remember it.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">Happy Spring!&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">Now, please let April showers bring so many May flowers.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div>http://www.rameelinlarson.com/2015/04/easter-2015.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (rameelin)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719485298486668964.post-2258704581812805700Fri, 03 Apr 2015 14:34:00 +00002015-04-03T09:34:14.438-05:00Good Friday. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-UPVcGTzvynE/VR1xoRhMJ8I/AAAAAAAAdzA/SB_uEwIFF6g/s640/blogger-image-373285210.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-UPVcGTzvynE/VR1xoRhMJ8I/AAAAAAAAdzA/SB_uEwIFF6g/s1600/blogger-image-373285210.jpg" /></a></div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">As I do each Easter week, I quieted.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I told my spirit, 'ponder.&nbsp; sit.&nbsp; listen.'</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">And we did, spirit and I, together.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I reflected on this, Good Friday.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I thought much about the crucifixion.&nbsp; The garden of gethsemane.&nbsp; The knowing in His heart and the knowing of the Father.&nbsp; The helplessness of a mother, of all those that loved him.&nbsp; The weeping he did over his friend Lazarus and his dead body; the friend he loved and loved deeply.&nbsp; I thought long and hard about the weeping.&nbsp; The sorrow.&nbsp; The story.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">The utter and crushing truth of what this very day held for my One True Love, Jesus.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">The heaviness always overtakes me.&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">The days leading&nbsp;up to Easter&nbsp;are brutal for my spirit in the most convicting and altering ways.&nbsp; I purpose myself to walk through it in my mind, over and over.&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I think about it.&nbsp; I cry over it.&nbsp; I wrestle with it.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Blood and wire and lashing and tears and sweat and yelling and hatred and longing and love and brutality and heroics and sacrifice and betrayal and judgment and submission and anger and peace and purpose and surrender and heaviness and yielding and life ending.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">For life beginning.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Life everlasting.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Live eternal.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">For you.&nbsp; And for me.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">It swallows me whole.&nbsp; The entire portrait of the one true God-man who stole my heart.&nbsp; His life story is beautiful and tragic and victorious.&nbsp; I often wonder if He questioned, like I do, his life and the ultimate totality of what it meant for this world.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I wonder if Jesus, the human God, ever thought to himself that while yes, He would die for the salvation of humanity, if given the option, He maybe would have chosen differently.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">But then I see Him.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">A striking 33 years old, in the prime of his manhood.&nbsp; And He chooses the cross.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;"><em>He could have chosen differently.</em>&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">And even if He couldn't have chosen a different path or a different outcome, He surely could have chosen a different way to handle it.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">But He didn't.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Instead, He splintered His own back, carrying a heavy, rugged, scraping tree so that you and I could live free in a world full or torturous, horrendous, unspeakable sin.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">And experience grace.&nbsp; And truth.&nbsp; And hope.&nbsp; And life.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">They split open His body until the blood and the bones matched the pavement beneath Him.&nbsp; Until&nbsp;everything inside was outside. He was negated to less than a shell of a man.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">He was humiliated, brutalized and tortured beyond recognition.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">His mother was watching.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">And on this day she stood beneath her child as they hoisted from the ground to the sky, her son on a tree above a crowd that was taunting and defiling Him in every unimaginable way.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">It is horrific.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">It is true.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">And it humbles me to tears.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">A mother's love.&nbsp; A child's sacrifice.&nbsp; A crowd full of people whose spirits were wrecked; some holy-wrecked and some blind to the holy.&nbsp; It troubles me and it's conflicting.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">But ultimately, it's a beautiful glimpse into the heart of our Savior.&nbsp; It's a beautiful reminder that on a very typical day for the rest of the world, one man [the true God] gave His LIFE.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">He gave it up.&nbsp; And He did so at the promise that we would be set free.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">So that when I woke up on this Good Friday morning and walked into the room where my baby was seizing in her sleep, I didn't have to be overtaken by fear or worry.&nbsp; He did it so that I could rest in the knowing that if she meets Him today, it will be forever.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">And I will join them in a Heavenly place one day.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">So that I could have hope of the restoration of her body, and her spirit with a Father who adores her.&nbsp; So that this life on earth could pale in comparison to the eternal place of rest she will find in Heaven.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">And so that, in so many ways, I could long for that for her. </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">And for me.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">And for you.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br />So that we could find total and full peace in life after this world.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">In a Savior's promise and sacrifice.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">In a God who gave it all.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Who felt it all.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Who was, in reflection, so much like you and I.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">The man who was God.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Who was everything.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Who is.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">And is to come.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Today, I think about His dying.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">And in just a few I will think and reflect and be honored at his rising.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">His love is so much more than enough.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Happy Good Friday, friends.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">May you feel Him around you today.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">﻿</div>http://www.rameelinlarson.com/2015/04/good-friday.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (rameelin)1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719485298486668964.post-4488110842437048915Thu, 02 Apr 2015 16:53:00 +00002015-04-02T11:53:21.847-05:00home, at last. <div align="center">﻿</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">"What is the goal? </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">A house that is like the life that goes with it, a house that gives us beauty as we understand it-and beauty of a nobler kind that we may grow to understand." -Elsie De Wolfe</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">One year ago, we were one year past the time when our family shifted and changed.&nbsp; In the cold of winter Nora expressed the need to move from our big white house where we were once a family to a place where her memories would be new.&nbsp; I heard her.&nbsp; I watched her closely and decided that this little girl was onto something.&nbsp; We needed a fresh start; a foundation where we could build our strength back up and therefore our lives.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">One year ago&nbsp;the kids and I lived&nbsp;moved into&nbsp;a quaint 3 bedroom house that was just the right size for us.&nbsp; We had neighbors, the best front porch, a large yard, and a really great open field where they could run and play.&nbsp; The move was hard initially.&nbsp; When we left the big house, especially for the kids, it felt like we left an entire life behind.&nbsp; And essentially we did.&nbsp; We left the notion of what once was in that home; airy, cold and bitterly empty.&nbsp; But we didn't look back either.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I tried really hard to make the transition good for the kids.&nbsp; And as the days passed, we watched as they got better.&nbsp; Emotionally they just got better.&nbsp; There were still really hard moments.&nbsp; Really tough days.&nbsp; There were crying breakdowns and fits of anger like I've never seen.&nbsp; There were hard truths to talk about and really honest conversations about life that I wish never had to be had with my children, only 7 and 8 years old.&nbsp; It was excruciating to walk through those days with them.&nbsp; But we did.&nbsp; We walked through it, together.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">And we did what we set out to do.&nbsp; We started fresh, building strength from a foundation of God, love, honesty, trust, and family.&nbsp; We answered their questions truthfully.&nbsp; We spent every day with them, never leaving and assuring them that we wouldn't.&nbsp; We talked, talked and talked some more.&nbsp; We hugged, danced, celebrated holidays, ate family dinner, enjoyed making new friends, tested our limits and really opened ourselves up to the possibility of a life that was far more grand that we ever could have dreamed.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">-----</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">A few&nbsp;weeks ago, the dreams that I once dreamed as a little girl came true.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">It's not at all how I imagined it would be with a cookie cutter family, shared last names, Sunday morning church, healthy children, and a home that was our home from the start of it all.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Rather, God turned what could have been very broken and very imperfect into something very, incredibly, oh so extraordinarily good.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">As He promised He would.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-fzJfZSoamow/VQjJ-bbd64I/AAAAAAAAdwY/83qfipcO1FA/s640/blogger-image--314084904.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-fzJfZSoamow/VQjJ-bbd64I/AAAAAAAAdwY/83qfipcO1FA/s640/blogger-image--314084904.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div align="center">You see, two years ago when our world was rocked on a cold February morning, I set in my mind to go on.&nbsp; I set in my mind to trust God with whatever it is He was going to do with the mess I was in.&nbsp; I quite literally remember looking in the mirror one day and saying, "I'm done.&nbsp; It's all up to you.&nbsp; Whatever it is that you're going to do, just do it.&nbsp; I'm all in."</div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">I was.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">And here I am.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">Two years later.&nbsp; ﻿</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-4satf2bohZk/VQjJ4QIjrcI/AAAAAAAAdwQ/CHFdw_kx2ME/s640/blogger-image-1072666374.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="638" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-4satf2bohZk/VQjJ4QIjrcI/AAAAAAAAdwQ/CHFdw_kx2ME/s640/blogger-image-1072666374.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div align="center">A few weeks&nbsp;ago the kids, Chris and I moved into a home that we hope will be ours until these kids are grown.&nbsp; It sits on the outside of our little town, on top of the most perfect hill and rests in the center of 2 acres.&nbsp; The sun sets directly behind our living room window where we just happen to have large sliding glass doors.&nbsp; There hasn't been an evening since getting here that I haven't stood in awe.</div><div align="center">Of this life.&nbsp; That sun.&nbsp; The beauty.&nbsp; The bigness of this world and of&nbsp;His love.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-3UuMuGATORM/VQjKOdDMFyI/AAAAAAAAdww/HAnBEHmIY-I/s640/blogger-image--25028501.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-3UuMuGATORM/VQjKOdDMFyI/AAAAAAAAdww/HAnBEHmIY-I/s640/blogger-image--25028501.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div align="center">﻿</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">﻿</div><div align="center">When I stop and really think about it all, I'm overwhelmed.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">Some of us bounce questions around to one another, asking things like, </div><div align="center">"Was this God's plan all along or did He take what went bad and truly turn it around for good?"&nbsp; </div><div align="center">"Was this the ultimate end game?"&nbsp; </div><div align="center">"Was this what God intended all along and it just took life and choices and the mess to end up here?"</div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">All I know is that out of the darkness, depth and ashes, God truly did form beauty.&nbsp; It is still really difficult on most days but I can look at the faces of these children now and see that in it all, they are going to be ok.&nbsp; Their foundation is sturdy and their hearts are pure.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">They are good.</div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">This may not have been the original plan, but I have to believe in my heart of hearts that this was the plan God envisioned for us; that&nbsp;He wanted the goodness of this exact moment, this exact life to be our truth and our legacy.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">﻿</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-v0NrdIthPKg/VQjKJMEH2FI/AAAAAAAAdwo/IF7xK1d4S_U/s640/blogger-image--727254476.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="638" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-v0NrdIthPKg/VQjKJMEH2FI/AAAAAAAAdwo/IF7xK1d4S_U/s640/blogger-image--727254476.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">The last&nbsp;4 weeks have brought amazing changes for our family as a whole; changes that will inevitably provide security, safety and stability for the kids.&nbsp; In moving&nbsp;to a new&nbsp;home, I tried desperately to make it feel 'normal' for them right away as to help control what could otherwise feel very scary and overwhelming for them.&nbsp;&nbsp;I also have this strong desire&nbsp;to make everything feel as&nbsp;normal&nbsp;as I can in their lives because they have so much going on that is so far from it.&nbsp; ﻿</div><div align="center">﻿</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-p8Bpq60_HrQ/VQjJjNuDD3I/AAAAAAAAdvw/WdG9yfkHHo0/s640/blogger-image--541978658.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-p8Bpq60_HrQ/VQjJjNuDD3I/AAAAAAAAdvw/WdG9yfkHHo0/s640/blogger-image--541978658.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div align="center">5&nbsp;weeks ago Mabel had the biggest seizure that I've ever seen.&nbsp; It lasted a very long time, what felt like an eternity.&nbsp; Chris and I watched her and I felt the panic rise from my stomach into my throat.&nbsp; There was nothing we could do except watch.&nbsp; I began to sweat.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">We are wholly&nbsp;helpless.</div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">She hasn't quite been the same since.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">She stopped drinking by mouth completely.&nbsp; She's choking or more often than not, flat out refusing to swallow, some days even her own saliva.&nbsp; I'm thankful for her tube but I'm just sick about it.&nbsp; This is one change that I have always known that I wouldn't be ready for.&nbsp; I could never have anticipated how hard it has been for me, more so because I know that any change of this magnitude is one that could mean so much more than just not drinking a bottle.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">She is far more lethargic than she's ever been, falling asleep at random times and some&nbsp;days not having enough energy to even jerk around like she once did.&nbsp; Other days she still screams for 12 hours straight and seizes almost non stop.&nbsp; The up and down from day to day is emotionally exhausting.&nbsp; It's so sad and hard and unpredictable.&nbsp; My mind and body are exhausted at all times.&nbsp; And my heart?&nbsp; </div><div align="center">My heart is still beating but otherwise, it's hard to say.&nbsp; I'm very sad and very scared.&nbsp; Very worried and very stressed. But mostly sad.&nbsp; ﻿</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-AePR0IOxP7I/VQjKS3Y62ZI/AAAAAAAAdw4/HsldwKcuW3k/s640/blogger-image-1089266072.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-AePR0IOxP7I/VQjKS3Y62ZI/AAAAAAAAdw4/HsldwKcuW3k/s640/blogger-image-1089266072.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-4WEzV0QKwRY/VQjKYIMn_oI/AAAAAAAAdxA/3zelFbhHll0/s640/blogger-image--470487117.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-4WEzV0QKwRY/VQjKYIMn_oI/AAAAAAAAdxA/3zelFbhHll0/s640/blogger-image--470487117.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div align="center">Strangely the sad only fills up part of my spirit.</div><div align="center">I'm in no way taken over by it anymore.</div><div align="center">Because truly, life is really unbelievably great.&nbsp; Every day I wake up and wonder how anyone gets this lucky.&nbsp; <br />Even on our hardest, saddest, most overwhelming days I can't help but look around and feel blown away by joy and love.&nbsp; ﻿</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-aLH1PDPruv0/VQjJnyR3AbI/AAAAAAAAdv4/Or0Cd93MCB8/s640/blogger-image--436656414.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="638" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-aLH1PDPruv0/VQjJnyR3AbI/AAAAAAAAdv4/Or0Cd93MCB8/s640/blogger-image--436656414.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-nUWkjZgHT94/VQjJYbpaMXI/AAAAAAAAdvg/r41BmmxZtiU/s640/blogger-image-1274463900.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-nUWkjZgHT94/VQjJYbpaMXI/AAAAAAAAdvg/r41BmmxZtiU/s640/blogger-image-1274463900.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div align="center">The big kids are doing great in school.&nbsp; Nora's doing speech and is in therapy, which she loves.&nbsp; Braden had a couple of appointments this month as well, one ending with two teeth having to be pulled, another telling us he needs his tonsils taken out and another that will bring about a whole lot of relief for him in general.&nbsp; Their grades are above average and they seem to be making really great friends.&nbsp; Every single day I am in awe of how really great they are.&nbsp; They handle life with such grace, such poise, such dignity.&nbsp; I pray that these are traits that they continue to exude throughout life.&nbsp; They are honest, kind, compassionate, empathetic and very intuitive kids.&nbsp; Those things are incredible gifts to possess!﻿</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-B_1v3zLU3ak/VQjJuYhr-XI/AAAAAAAAdwA/V0jrLO1cFys/s640/blogger-image-108834026.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-B_1v3zLU3ak/VQjJuYhr-XI/AAAAAAAAdwA/V0jrLO1cFys/s640/blogger-image-108834026.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">All in all, the view from here is remarkable.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I can see things exactly the way they are meant to be seen.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">There is peace, hope, joy, family and love.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">So much of it.﻿</div><div align="center">﻿</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-v0nQiisusm4/VQjKD8n69YI/AAAAAAAAdwg/BWv9Tn_zfP4/s640/blogger-image-236872212.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-v0nQiisusm4/VQjKD8n69YI/AAAAAAAAdwg/BWv9Tn_zfP4/s640/blogger-image-236872212.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div align="center">Our days are, as usual,&nbsp;a perfect blend of calm and chaotic.&nbsp; There is just enough of a balance that it all feels too good to be true.&nbsp; I feel incredibly lucky, thankful and happy.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">I've never known the kind of joy that my heart knows right now, all of us together in a place that we not only call home but that feels like a home should truly feel.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">﻿</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-jsn2rNlPyAQ/VQjJzAjxggI/AAAAAAAAdwI/chzz6q_s-0g/s640/blogger-image--897580306.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-jsn2rNlPyAQ/VQjJzAjxggI/AAAAAAAAdwI/chzz6q_s-0g/s400/blogger-image--897580306.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>http://www.rameelinlarson.com/2015/04/home-at-last.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (rameelin)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719485298486668964.post-4108007024410206850Mon, 30 Mar 2015 14:34:00 +00002015-03-30T09:34:00.324-05:00with love, future self. <div align="center">Dear 3 years-ago-self,</div><div align="center">Wake up!</div><div align="center">&nbsp; Today you will meet the Dr. who will tell you what is happening inside of your baby!&nbsp; Don't be afraid.&nbsp; Or do.&nbsp; Either way it is ok.&nbsp; And it's going to be.&nbsp; Today you will meet a man who will seem a little mad.&nbsp; He will look at Mabel top to bottom.&nbsp; It will seem as if he notates and marks every little thing about her and it will make you feel both uneasy and thankful.&nbsp; Until now, you've not had one doctor who will take the time to listen to you like he will, run the kind of tests that he will, or make you feel like she's worthy of an answer more than he will.&nbsp; Dr. S will solve the mystery for you in just&nbsp;3 short months if you simply take Mabel into his office today and let him.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">He will find the thing inside of her.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">And he will give it a name.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">﻿</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-w7_lAI3ujXI/VRlUIVPQRPI/AAAAAAAAdyI/k2yzS4c_6Gs/s640/blogger-image-1409412344.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-w7_lAI3ujXI/VRlUIVPQRPI/AAAAAAAAdyI/k2yzS4c_6Gs/s1600/blogger-image-1409412344.jpg" /></a></div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">For awhile now, almost a year probably, you have been knee deep in grief.&nbsp; You have drowned yourself in the unknown, the complicated, the guttural and the inescapable.&nbsp; You have exhausted yourself, and every resource thus far trying to find the answers.&nbsp; It wasn't time yet, but it's time now.&nbsp; Today is the day that will change everything.&nbsp; Don't be afraid; the afraid can be over.&nbsp; Today you should be excited!&nbsp; exhilarated!&nbsp; Today will be life changing and you will never forget it.&nbsp; This is the day when this doctor will look at you, listen to you, be honest with you, and forge ahead beside you.&nbsp; This doctor will name the thing inside of her.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">In just 3 months, you will know that Mabel, your baby, has batten disease.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">A life altering, mind blowing diagnosis that changes everything but changes nothing.&nbsp; Because even without the name, you have fought for her, you have cared for you, you have loved her beyond explanation.&nbsp; The name of the thing doesn't change any of that.&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">But the name will bring you peace.&nbsp; It will shake you out of grief.&nbsp; It will open your eyes to who she really is. You will feel the mystery be solved and you will feel your heart resolve.&nbsp; You will wake up from sadness and sorrow.&nbsp; Your eyes will open soon after her diagnosis and you will feel new again.&nbsp; You will feel alive again.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-LN8xOZS3pGI/VRlUc-hHSNI/AAAAAAAAdyg/MGcQdECcQus/s640/blogger-image--1809846395.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-LN8xOZS3pGI/VRlUc-hHSNI/AAAAAAAAdyg/MGcQdECcQus/s640/blogger-image--1809846395.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div align="center">If I could tell you one thing about this day it is that it is all going to be ok.</div><div align="center">You will receive a terminal diagnosis for your daughter in a couple of months but you will find some sort of strength in it that is unmatched.&nbsp; You will begin to mentally prepare her funeral with peace and with ease because you will be able to accept the thing that once did not have a name but now does.&nbsp; You will be able to accept batten disease because it is known in her.&nbsp; You will be able to move forward in her life, at the prospect of her death because you know with certainty that those things are both full and true for her.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">Her life.&nbsp; And her death.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">They are both vibrant.&nbsp; They are both part of her.&nbsp; Just as you suspected, but no one could tell you wholly.&nbsp; Today, you will meet with a doctor who will call you in a few short months and confirm what you have suspected all along- "Mabel has a terminal disease.&nbsp; But it doesn't change who she is.&nbsp; She is the same today as she was yesterday.&nbsp; She is yours."</div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">Today you will meet a doctor but and you will meet a friend.&nbsp; And in three years, when she is still alive and beautiful as ever, he will still be calling you.&nbsp; He will still be running tests and doing research because there are parts of her that are still a mystery.&nbsp; And you will be ok with that in 3 years because you will then know that you have an amazing team of people who are not only as interested in her as you are, but who love her like you do.&nbsp; Who are intrigued by her, and who find her life worthy of answers.&nbsp; This will constantly remind you that you are on the right path, the path that God laid out for your life.&nbsp; It will make you feel incredibly surrounded.&nbsp; In three years from now, you will be far less lonely.&nbsp; In fact, you will be more than ok.&nbsp; ﻿</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-Ynf1aWCPz-M/VRlUkjqsyXI/AAAAAAAAdyo/HLPLQ3NHkjE/s640/blogger-image--222569959.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-Ynf1aWCPz-M/VRlUkjqsyXI/AAAAAAAAdyo/HLPLQ3NHkjE/s640/blogger-image--222569959.jpg" /></a></div><div align="center">In three years from now, Mabel will almost be 5 years old.&nbsp; She will have lost all of her skills.&nbsp; She will need 100% care.&nbsp; You will have to assist her in pooping, you will have to carry her everywhere and prop her head as it will have begun to hang more.&nbsp; You will be essentially homebound with her, especially in the winter.&nbsp; She will have lost the ability to eat and be totally tube fed.&nbsp; She will still be 18 pounds, not having gained any weight.&nbsp; Her seizures will have increased and will look &amp; feel much more scary to you.&nbsp; She will go through long phases of intense crying, sometimes for 10 hours a&nbsp;day,&nbsp;and long phases of extreme lethargy, each unpredictable and taking their toll on you.&nbsp; Emotionally you will adapt to each of these things far better than you could have anticipated and you will be confident in her care.&nbsp;In three years from now, Mabel will still be alive and the anticipation of her dying will no longer be scary for you because you will not only expect it, but you will understand better what it looks like&nbsp; You will&nbsp;know what to look for, how to handle each change and you will have become an expert on her disease.&nbsp; In three years from now, you will have been so well equipped with knowledge about batten disease that you are completely at peace with her diagnosis, her life, her care, and her death.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">Today, meeting with Dr. S, today changes everything for you.</div><div align="center">Nothing for her.</div><div align="center">But everything for you.</div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">So wake up.&nbsp; Put on your lipstick.</div><div align="center">It's going to be ok.&nbsp; ﻿</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-iggHax6UneY/VRlUYOQrcZI/AAAAAAAAdyY/nGEhoQyJtwU/s640/blogger-image-1866891729.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-iggHax6UneY/VRlUYOQrcZI/AAAAAAAAdyY/nGEhoQyJtwU/s640/blogger-image-1866891729.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div align="center">3-years-ago me,</div><div align="center">Please don't be afraid.&nbsp; In just a few short years every single thing in your life will look differently.&nbsp; It will not be lonely, it will not be sad, it will not be heavy.&nbsp; In fact, it will all be very freeing.&nbsp; You will walk these next few years with such high priorities, such devotion to your child, such love and authenticity for her life.&nbsp; You will do everything with such purpose and you will trust God in a way that most people never get the chance to do.&nbsp; These next three years are life altering!&nbsp; Life changing!&nbsp; Marvelous!&nbsp; They are sprinkled with all sorts of sadness, yet more joy than you can possibly dream or imagine on this day.&nbsp; But trust me, you will be better.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">She will be ok.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">And you will be better.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">Chin up, sister.&nbsp; Today you are starting the path that will enhance your life.&nbsp; You don't know it yet but it will be such a beautiful surprise.&nbsp; You are tired and you are worried that today will leave you right where you started but trust me, today changes everything for you.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">And it's going to be ok.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">You're right where you need to be.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">Hang in there.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">With Love,</div><div align="center">Future self.&nbsp; ﻿</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-xJHTe2SCqY0/VRlUTe7YapI/AAAAAAAAdyQ/c-hXW_3FzS4/s640/blogger-image--1812378836.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-xJHTe2SCqY0/VRlUTe7YapI/AAAAAAAAdyQ/c-hXW_3FzS4/s640/blogger-image--1812378836.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>http://www.rameelinlarson.com/2015/03/with-love-future-self.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (rameelin)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719485298486668964.post-6627852472902126274Wed, 18 Mar 2015 17:24:00 +00002015-03-18T12:30:04.385-05:00come, spring, come. <a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-xzIbHYynchE/VQmh-7Pj2JI/AAAAAAAAdxU/3cbL2bVg9Ac/s640/blogger-image-2055777454.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-xzIbHYynchE/VQmh-7Pj2JI/AAAAAAAAdxU/3cbL2bVg9Ac/s640/blogger-image-2055777454.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;">&nbsp;</a><br /><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-xzIbHYynchE/VQmh-7Pj2JI/AAAAAAAAdxU/3cbL2bVg9Ac/s640/blogger-image-2055777454.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;">&nbsp;</a><br /><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-FGJmiESATNI/VQmiMGoUIVI/AAAAAAAAdxs/YR_lWniw4YM/s640/blogger-image-58097795.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-FGJmiESATNI/VQmiMGoUIVI/AAAAAAAAdxs/YR_lWniw4YM/s640/blogger-image-58097795.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;">&nbsp;</a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Winter is nearing end.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">Physically and emotionally.</div><div align="center">Thank God.</div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">Winter is hard.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">It's within these months where I hold my breath, somewhere inside waiting for Mabel to slip from here to Heaven.&nbsp; Winter is a silent lurker in the heart that is typically strong.&nbsp; It brings about doubt, questions, sickness, cold.&nbsp; It's gray days etch within me a glimpse of what they may&nbsp;inevitably and indefinitely&nbsp;feel like when she's not here for me to hold, smell and care for.&nbsp; Winter is the brief glimpse of impending coldness and longing in my soul.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-zAlu881zCK8/VQmiH4KnHgI/AAAAAAAAdxk/A9i9Xu1l9Jg/s640/blogger-image--1658342388.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-zAlu881zCK8/VQmiH4KnHgI/AAAAAAAAdxk/A9i9Xu1l9Jg/s640/blogger-image--1658342388.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But winter did not steal my girl from me this year.&nbsp; Oh no.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The sunshine showed up and&nbsp;sang his victory&nbsp;song&nbsp;just a few days ago.&nbsp;&nbsp;He shined brightly into her thin, auburn hair and touched the tips with refreshing.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Renewing.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">oh Spring.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Her eyes met mine and for a second it as was if she saw me.&nbsp; Through to the depth and entirety of me.&nbsp; She does, I'm certain.&nbsp; It had been days since she had really responded to much with a smile but in this moment, her little nose crinkled like mine does and her lips spread thin across freckled cheeks.&nbsp; Her tongue, always emerging, didn't fail.&nbsp; My eyes filled with wet and I reached down to brush her eyebrow with the tip of my finger.&nbsp; 'So perfect,' I thought.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">'Not made for this world,' I thought.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-xzIbHYynchE/VQmh-7Pj2JI/AAAAAAAAdxU/3cbL2bVg9Ac/s1600/blogger-image-2055777454.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-xzIbHYynchE/VQmh-7Pj2JI/AAAAAAAAdxU/3cbL2bVg9Ac/s640/blogger-image-2055777454.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Two nights before as I carried her limp, tired, 18 pound body to her bed, I felt the weight of her and the weight of the week consume me.&nbsp; I laid her down and laid beside her.&nbsp; It had been an exceptionally scary and non-typical day.&nbsp; Her body was limp; her color, gray like winter.&nbsp; She had nothing- her body was ragged and non responsive to sound,&nbsp;or movement. &nbsp;Earlier as she lay in my arms I remember wondering if this was it; if this would be the night that led to the morning when she wouldn't wake.&nbsp; Was her brain tired and finally shutting down?&nbsp; Was the energy her body needs to simply&nbsp;breathe going to escape her as she slept?&nbsp; Would this be the last goodnight I whispered? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I wept beside her as she slept, something I haven't ever done before.&nbsp; I rubbed her hand as it fastened around mine and I watched her little limbs jerk to and fro under the weight of her blanket, as they always do; involuntarily, thanks to this wretched disease.&nbsp; I listened to her breathing, slow and steady.&nbsp; I smelled the crease of her neck, deep and deeper.&nbsp; I looked closely at her ears, the way they curve; how one opens at the top and how one does not.&nbsp; I pushed the sweaty curl of her hair behind that perfectly imperfect ear and lay helpless to what the night may bring for my babe.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Night is like winter, you see.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Dark, cold, lonely, secretive.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I spoke it out loud to only one.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"Something is different.&nbsp; Things are changing.&nbsp; I am terrified.&nbsp; This is so hard."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A couple of weeks ago a batten family that I met at our conference last year lost their sweet daughter unexpectedly.&nbsp; She was in rather good health, considering.&nbsp; Her mom essentially went to lay down her keys on the counter and when she returned to kiss her daughter, she was no longer breathing.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Just like that.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">In one single instant.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The bridge between life and death, nearly invisible.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My heart shatters time and time again, day after day.&nbsp; The sadness, strain and stress of this disease and all that is to come is remarkably overwhelming.&nbsp; To sustain life outside of batten disease is a challenge because if I let it, it could easily be all consuming.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Her care, the worry, the constant changes, our emotions.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It's undeniably the hardest road that anyone should ever have to walk:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Living with a child that you know is going to die.&nbsp; Waiting for the signs that could show you that the time is near.&nbsp; Realizing that there may not be any signs at all; that&nbsp;she could be gone in a single instant with no real warning.&nbsp; Looking at the changes in her eyes, body, and abilities and questioning what they mean.&nbsp; The ups and the downs from one minute to the next; one day to another.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This life is one that very few know.&nbsp; None should have to.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-rh-5hIkOSi8/VQmiDSVSQKI/AAAAAAAAdxc/L7-ae5OqzK0/s640/blogger-image--42441669.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-rh-5hIkOSi8/VQmiDSVSQKI/AAAAAAAAdxc/L7-ae5OqzK0/s640/blogger-image--42441669.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Winter often feels a bit like a thief to me; stealing the sunshine and a bit of my joy.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But then, as always and as promised, Spring.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Fresh, open, beautiful, miraculous, refreshing, opportunistic, peace bringing spring.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">When I woke to morning, after the night that I questioned would be her last, two blue birds landed on the back patio of our new home.&nbsp; The evening before I had watched the sun set over the hill and breathed deep the promise of a new day.&nbsp; I no longer pray in such a manner, though, rather I pray for the God of life to give and take away as He will.&nbsp; I pray that when the 'taketh away' occurs we will feel peace and that the literal breath of Heaven would be the wind on our cheeks as we walk through our days without our girl.&nbsp; Until then, I rejoice with morning.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">With blue birds and sunrise.&nbsp; With coffee and gasping breath from the lungs of my almost-5 year old.&nbsp; I rejoice with tube feedings and jerking movements, or sleep in the middle of the day where sleep didn't used to be.&nbsp; I rejoice with the buds of yellow roses outside of my back door.&nbsp; &nbsp;I rejoice with wonder, question, sorrow, uncertainty, but also with joy, promise, life, and hope.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Things are changing in my girl inside just as the dance of the days outside.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I can feel it&nbsp;in my spirit&nbsp;just as certainly&nbsp;as I feel the spring air settling in.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">There are tangible, noticeable differences but mostly her spirit and mine are speaking.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And understanding.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">---</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Goodbye winter.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Thank you once again for the lessons you have taught me.&nbsp; For the longer days, and the deeper thoughts.&nbsp; For the internal twists and turns that were necessary for my own growth and strength.&nbsp; I am positive it will serve me well in the days to come.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">For now, I welcome spring with slight uneasiness, never knowing what our days hold.&nbsp; But whatever it may be, I am grateful.&nbsp; To be her mother, to walk out this life with peace that truly goes beyond describing or understanding.&nbsp; To always and forever know the joy of a God who created it all and made it oh so good.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">---</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><em>“It was such a spring day as breathes into a man an ineffable yearning, a painful sweetness, a longing that makes him stand motionless, looking at the leaves or grass, and fling out his arms to embrace he knows not what.”&nbsp;&nbsp; -John Galsworthy</em></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div>http://www.rameelinlarson.com/2015/03/come-spring-come.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (rameelin)2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719485298486668964.post-3683016603821470591Sat, 14 Feb 2015 00:02:00 +00002015-02-14T08:33:15.496-06:00Valentine Letter.<div align="center">Nora, Braden &amp; Mabel,</div><div align="center">Happy Valentine's Day!</div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">Today is the day of love.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">The Bible tells us that God is Love.&nbsp; He is the ultimate form of the one thing that all of our hearts long for on this earth.&nbsp; If we know and believe in Him, we have a love that is incomparable to anything that we will ever experience here-we have the hope of an eternal home with Him!&nbsp; It's so special and so important.&nbsp; </div><div align="center">&nbsp;</div><div align="center">For me, this day is a reflection of our God.&nbsp; He created us in perfect love and He put us here to love others the same.&nbsp; If we love with kindness, meekness and a softness we will be doing exactly what we are called to do.&nbsp; You all do that really well; you have such special gifts and such special hearts.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-r730CUk-X1A/VN4fnRxk_yI/AAAAAAAAdsI/DtZOMnoQLLc/s640/blogger-image--292934047.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-r730CUk-X1A/VN4fnRxk_yI/AAAAAAAAdsI/DtZOMnoQLLc/s640/blogger-image--292934047.jpg" width="640"></a></div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">My biggest fear is that you will grow up and your version of love will be tainted.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">I never want you to have an idea of love that is inaccurate, painful or that causes you confusion.&nbsp; Please always remember that God is the only true Love.&nbsp; The rest of us are human.&nbsp; We are&nbsp;flawed and imperfect.&nbsp; We have the ability to fall in love, yes.&nbsp; But we also sometimes have the ability to hurt those that love us the most by our own choices.&nbsp; That doesn't take away from the love that you feel or once felt, it just changes things.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Life is full of changes but God Himself [love] never does.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">1 Corinthians 13:4</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud&nbsp; or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged.&nbsp; It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out.&nbsp; Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful and stays to the end.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">That is God.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">That is love.&nbsp; </div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-TV_3ANwNx2g/VN4ffKIqbAI/AAAAAAAAdr4/HtvC1LtZY5w/s640/blogger-image--596875318.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-TV_3ANwNx2g/VN4ffKIqbAI/AAAAAAAAdr4/HtvC1LtZY5w/s640/blogger-image--596875318.jpg" width="640"></a></div><br><br><br><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">So today while&nbsp;we, with the rest of the world,&nbsp;celebrate one another and the people that we love on Valentine's Day, let's not forget our one true sweetheart.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Our Lord who loves us created our hearts to give love to others.&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">&nbsp;</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Sometimes that means forgiving the unforgivable.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Sometimes it means hoping when we feel hopeless.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Sometimes it means learning to love again when we've been hurt.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">But mostly it means allowing ourselves the greatest gift that has been given in Jesus.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Just loving Him and letting Him love us in return.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">Happy Valentine's Day, kids.</div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both;">You're loved so very&nbsp;big.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-lZxehz2Klos/VN4frXI4QVI/AAAAAAAAdsQ/xblHfx7lrRs/s640/blogger-image--337211077.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-lZxehz2Klos/VN4frXI4QVI/AAAAAAAAdsQ/xblHfx7lrRs/s400/blogger-image--337211077.jpg" width="400"></a></div>http://www.rameelinlarson.com/2015/02/valentine-letter.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (rameelin)2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719485298486668964.post-5382745351974910965Thu, 12 Feb 2015 23:57:00 +00002015-02-13T07:01:34.947-06:00Happy Galentine's Day.<div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-rAMac1n_neA/VN04eYRltrI/AAAAAAAAdrU/tf0ugYSUeCA/s640/blogger-image-561228266.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-rAMac1n_neA/VN04eYRltrI/AAAAAAAAdrU/tf0ugYSUeCA/s640/blogger-image-561228266.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br></div><br>Today is officially 'galentines day.'</div><div style="text-align: center;">I think this term and this day were originally dubbed from the show, Parks and Recreation, but I don't really know and&nbsp;honestly&nbsp;don't really care.</div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">The idea behind this day, this February 13th, is to celebrate the ladies in our lives and I think it's genius.&nbsp; The goal is to wrap them up in compliments, adorn them with gifts, and celebrate them for all they do for us.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Minds, Bodies, Spirits.</div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">This day actually means something to me and I think it was the best idea next to coffee creamer ever to be invented.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">To celebrate the women in my life for all they have done for me would take an eternity but I sure can express my love for them to the best of my ability.&nbsp; It will still be lacking but it's all I have.&nbsp; It's all I can drum up because to be perfectly honestly when I sit down and think of each of them, the members of my village, and think about all we've walked through together I'm completely overwhelmed and the words fall incredibly short.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">This time of this month is really very difficult for me.&nbsp; A couple of years ago these weeks were leading up to some of the worst days of my entire life.&nbsp; I didn't quite know what was soon going to happen so hindsight makes it all the more painful.&nbsp; It also makes me see things with a really wide and gracious perspective.&nbsp; It makes me look back and appreciate the backbone that I was given by way of support and encouragement from some of the strongest women I know.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">I'm so lucky to have them.</div><div style="text-align: center;">----</div><div style="text-align: center;">At this point so many things go unspoken between us.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">We are in a room and we look across the table at one another and each of us knows the extent of all we have endured, together.&nbsp; It's a very peaceful, nurturing, content feeling to have shared in the most vulnerable, most raw, most intense, most devastating, most joyful, most beautiful, most terrifying, most abundant things with them.&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">The eyes of my friends have seen it all.&nbsp; Their ears have absolutely heard it all.&nbsp; There has been no filter, no resistance.&nbsp; It's as if we all entered into this union together knowing that we are in it for the long haul no matter what that takes.&nbsp; I have a beautiful marriage within these friendships; one more fulfilling than I could have dreamed.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">I have been strewn across a couch, snot dripping, sobs heaving, shirt soaking, screaming, flailing, stomach jolting, body trembling while several of them held me.&nbsp; Tightly.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">Never to let me go-not until I was ready.</div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">I have been looked in the face and told very sternly that I was going to the lawyer, tomorrow morning, 9 am.&nbsp; Enough is enough.&nbsp;We will go with you.&nbsp; It will be ok.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I did.&nbsp; They were.&nbsp; It was.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">I have watched them fill my yard for every cookout and every birthday party.&nbsp; I have watched them watch me as I speak to a crowd of hundreds about our girl, our Mabel.&nbsp; I have watched them bring babies into this world, leave loveless marriages, move across the country with one bag, or move across the country with many little boys and one little girl that stole our hearts and gave us hope.&nbsp; I have held each of them as they have experienced loss;&nbsp;of a parent, a pet,&nbsp;a job, a home, an unborn baby, their dreams.&nbsp; I have met them in the doorway of my home, our safe place, after long days at work, long days with children,&nbsp;long nights with husbands, long mornings with bosses and long lists for the days ahead.&nbsp;&nbsp;I have held hands as we cross the finish line of races we have prepared together, I&nbsp;have encouraged&nbsp;each of them on new endeavors, whether joyful or difficult, in&nbsp;hopes that&nbsp;whatever it is will teach us ALL a lesson about life.</div><div style="text-align: center;">And it always has.</div><div style="text-align: center;">And they've always always done the same for me.</div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">We are a team, this village and I.&nbsp; We work together to come up with plans for our weeks and we do life very well together.&nbsp; We nurture each other's children, we attend appointments when other mommy's cant, we step in and play whatever role needs to be filled for whatever moment we are in and we do it really very well.&nbsp; It is practical, tangible and the greatest gift in this world.</div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">We have bought homes,&nbsp;left homes, gotten engaged, gotten divorced, had children, found diagnosis',&nbsp;shuttled children, attended every ballgame, and dance recital, pledged to every math-a-thon, bought every girl scout cookie, answered every single text and every single call.&nbsp; We have dropped every single thing to be there for one another in those darkest moments and we have learned to do so very functionally.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">We are the lucky ones and every day we know it.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">Our lives are very rich and oh so full because of one another.</div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">So without further ado:</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: red;">To my dearest galantine girls, my village, </span><br><span style="color: red;">Today I want to say thank you.&nbsp; Thank you for blonde haired boy brothers, chubby cheeked &amp; Asian girls, talks of IEP's, ADD and every other behavioral issue that comes upon us (there's far too many, lets just admit it.) Thank you for late night talks and day time walks.&nbsp; Thank you for answering when my text simply says, 'kitchen floor kind of day.'&nbsp; </span><br><span style="color: red;"></span><br><span style="color: red;">Thank you for coffee &amp; flowers&nbsp;unexpected, last minute grocery store trips, being a school bus when I needed you to be, and giving of yourselves so wholly.&nbsp; Not just to me, to everyone.&nbsp; That's what you do; you are givers.&nbsp; You are the most selfless women I know and I'm inspired every day to continue being that way because of you, and in spite of my circumstances.&nbsp; </span><br><span style="color: red;"></span><br><span style="color: red;">Thank you for cookie dough and wiener roasts.&nbsp;Thank you for pulling my living room apart to put me back together and for never leaving my side in it all-not ever.&nbsp; Thank you for holding Mabel and buying her pj's (and meeting my glance when we all know she's getting way too big to be wearing them.&nbsp; Thanks for pretending she's still an infant right along side me.)&nbsp; </span><br><span style="color: red;"></span><br><span style="color: red;">Thank you for walking in and loving each other, too.&nbsp; We all met somewhere in the middle and because of that common ground we have branched out to&nbsp;each another in ways we never would have expected.&nbsp; That has been the most rewarding and most beautiful thing about this life with each of you...seeing us grow into one another as well.&nbsp; </span><br><span style="color: red;"></span><br><span style="color: red;">Thank you for the strength that you give me.&nbsp; Thank you for the peace that you bring me.&nbsp; Thank you for the assurance that on my worst day, the front row on either side of me will be lined with faces that shine brightly the light of God and the hope of each other.&nbsp; You will never know what that means, but I do.&nbsp; I know because I've already walked through some of life's hardest things and I did so hand in hand with you.&nbsp; Looking back it felt like a year of my life was a really tough 'red rover' game where none of you would let go of me long enough to let anything else break through.&nbsp; </span><br><span style="color: red;">You were my barricade.&nbsp; You were my fortress.&nbsp; You always are.&nbsp;</span><br><span style="color: red;"></span><br><span style="color: red;">Thank you for deciding not to run or&nbsp;leave.&nbsp; For instead, buckling down when life got really incredibly mucky and terribly painful and deciding to walk through that freakin fire with me.&nbsp; &nbsp;</span><br><span style="color: red;">None of you thought twice.&nbsp; You just stood there, taking the lashings with me, one after another.&nbsp; And it refined all of us.&nbsp; It sharpened us.&nbsp; It created in us....</span><br><span style="color: red;">this.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-rAMac1n_neA/VN04eYRltrI/AAAAAAAAdrU/tf0ugYSUeCA/s1600/blogger-image-561228266.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-rAMac1n_neA/VN04eYRltrI/AAAAAAAAdrU/tf0ugYSUeCA/s400/blogger-image-561228266.jpg" width="400"></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-0DK7GHT5xY0/VN04oA55l3I/AAAAAAAAdrk/kpL1L4tkTTA/s640/blogger-image--2039202292.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-0DK7GHT5xY0/VN04oA55l3I/AAAAAAAAdrk/kpL1L4tkTTA/s400/blogger-image--2039202292.jpg" width="400"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="color: red;">Today is about you.&nbsp; </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="color: red;">But I celebrate you every day.&nbsp; </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="color: red;">Your wisdom, your beauty,&nbsp;your successes, your triumphs, your stories.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="color: red;">The gift of your friendship is what makes my life complete.&nbsp; Seeing you makes me know we are all ok no matter what is happening around us.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="color: red;">Together we make up &nbsp;this really powerful, eloquent, strong-willed village of women who have seen it all, endured most everything and came out better than ever.&nbsp; Every single one of you is a really necessary part of me.&nbsp; So thanks for being you.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="color: red;">I love you.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="color: red;">Happy Galentine's Day!</span>&nbsp; </div></div>http://www.rameelinlarson.com/2015/02/happy-galentines-day.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (rameelin)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4719485298486668964.post-1675121155443452006Mon, 02 Feb 2015 03:19:00 +00002015-02-01T21:19:39.733-06:00snow day 2015<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We waited with anticipation for the first big snow of winter.&nbsp; It happened to fall on the eve of February 1st.&nbsp; I woke this morning, looked outside and breathed it in.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">So white.&nbsp; So crisp.&nbsp; So clean and untouched.&nbsp; The silence was beautiful.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The snow fell all day.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kk-T1w2_E3E/VM7lgsQVW_I/AAAAAAAAdqw/ykTPv0y5Lc4/s1600/winter1.jpg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kk-T1w2_E3E/VM7lgsQVW_I/AAAAAAAAdqw/ykTPv0y5Lc4/s1600/winter1.jpg.jpg" height="400" width="266" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;February is kind of a hard month for me so today I welcomed the snow with wonder.&nbsp; It felt as if the Lord opened up the Heaven's and sprinkled down just the right amount of happy in our little piece of the earth for this very day.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Happy February, kid.&nbsp; You're doing it.</div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">Thanks, Lord.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-u0v5juRdwlI/VM7lgIhbkGI/AAAAAAAAdqs/c5qP3MT8K9I/s1600/winter2.jpg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-u0v5juRdwlI/VM7lgIhbkGI/AAAAAAAAdqs/c5qP3MT8K9I/s1600/winter2.jpg.jpg" height="400" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;Two years ago at the end of this month is when our world as we knew it changed.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Very sudden.&nbsp; Very final.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">Very painful.</div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">I remember the oblivion I was living in.&nbsp; I remember it all so clearly.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">I was simply raising and homeschooling my bigger children while caring for my recently diagnosed with a terminal disease youngest child.&nbsp; We were still actively doing therapies and I was wrapped up in research.&nbsp; It was a time of busyness but not necessarily a time that felt out of the ordinary.&nbsp; I had no idea the amount of discontent and disconnect that was happening in my home; specifically in my marriage at that time.&nbsp; It's sad for me to think back about how unaware I was.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">I was just really happy doing what I was doing.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">Enjoying simplicity and very common daily tasks:&nbsp; sledding, schoolwork, baking cookies, having dance parties, bedtime stories, and wake up routines.&nbsp; It was mundane and difficult but it was mine and I was really very happy doing it.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">I was sad about Mabel, yes.&nbsp; I had spent nearly two years questioning everything about everything before her diagnosis.&nbsp; But when the call came, so did a freedom from those questions and in this month, 2 years ago, I can honestly say I was better.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">I was happy.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-q5kJ6qtNLwo/VM7lfVEyqLI/AAAAAAAAdqk/zszXcmYSHPE/s1600/winter3.jpg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-q5kJ6qtNLwo/VM7lfVEyqLI/AAAAAAAAdqk/zszXcmYSHPE/s1600/winter3.jpg.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;And now, 2 years past the trauma and pain of it all, I can honestly say I find it difficult to find words to fit into the pieces of a life that I once lived but no longer recollect vividly.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">Absolutely I have memories of the children and I in our old home.&nbsp; I have memories of my village and I in the front yard of that old home.&nbsp; I have memories of nursing babies, and befriending therapist after therapist.&nbsp; I have memories of adopting Heidi and watching her run through the house, escaping out the door and me having to chase her through the neighborhood.&nbsp; I have memories of crayons on the walls and mouse after mouse in the traps.&nbsp; I have memories of babies crawling, walking, running and bicycling down the driveway.&nbsp; I have very painful, etched-so-deep-into-me memories of lonely nights, crying and thrashing for the life of my baby.&nbsp; I have memories of laughter and music and dancing and praying and cupcakes and gingerbread houses, and Christmas mornings, and Easter egg hunts and fall decorations and garage parties with friends.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">But I cannot for the life of me place myself back into those memories or back into that life in a way that really makes sense anymore.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">I am grateful for our minds; for the memories that we are able to make and maintain.&nbsp; But I am also grateful for the heart.&nbsp; For it's ability to heal, more forward and love again-smarter, better, more prepared and less fearful.&nbsp; I am thankful for our body's ability to go into literal shock and box away the too-painful stuff for another time; maybe later, and maybe never.&nbsp; Either way, I am glad.&nbsp; Sometimes it's too much 'stuff' and there's just not enough&nbsp;strength to muddle through it.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">Or maybe there's enough strength but it just needs to be allocated elsewhere.</div><div style="text-align: center;">And that is absolutely ok.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">In my case, it wasn't just ok...it was necessary.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CVptO7NPAxk/VM7lhJBEhcI/AAAAAAAAdq4/sjH8ev6aGzU/s1600/winter4.jpg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CVptO7NPAxk/VM7lhJBEhcI/AAAAAAAAdq4/sjH8ev6aGzU/s1600/winter4.jpg.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;February is here and it just gets me thinking.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Thinking about a time when life was so much different.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">It was so much less joyful.&nbsp; It was so much less enjoyable.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">It was painful and cold and lonely and confusing and sad.</div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">But it wasn't the end.&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;I wasn't going to let one bad February and one bad March define me or the lives of my children.&nbsp; I was going to be ok and I was going to forgive and love again.&nbsp; I was going to do the things that I loved with the people that I loved,&nbsp;and take care of myself and the kids in ways that I not only know are right, but essential.&nbsp; And I was going to do all of that with the hope that God would reward my life because He promises to do so if we simply trust Him.&nbsp; I never cared if I would receive that reward here on this earth but I always knew that facing eternity one day, I would be able to do so with confidence for the choices that I have made along the way.&nbsp; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TnAxzqad-5k/VM7lh0-xaaI/AAAAAAAAdrE/8TGDkELW9U0/s1600/winter5.jpg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TnAxzqad-5k/VM7lh0-xaaI/AAAAAAAAdrE/8TGDkELW9U0/s1600/winter5.jpg.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">This February, 2015, looks a whole lot different.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">We are in a quaint little home but are about to make yet another, more permanent move.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">Nora is 8 and is incredibly emotional, sad, fragile, smart, and complex.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Braden is 7 and is incredibly funny, loyal, busy and loving.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Mabel is 4 1/2.&nbsp; An age I didn't know that we would see.&nbsp; She is long and grows more every day.&nbsp; She still smiles and taps.&nbsp; Yesterday she said 'mom' on purpose every time I asked her to.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I am more content, more joyful, more peaceful, more calm and more in love than I have ever been before.&nbsp; I am thankful for every single step I have taken since the beginning of February 2013 because every step has strengthened me, prepared me, equipped me and thrust me further into a life that I was perfectly designed to lead.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">The snow today was so beautiful.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">My children, all together, wrapped up in one another, playing on top of it's softness was overwhelming.&nbsp; I am so grateful for every little thing that Nora and Braden get to experience with their sister.&nbsp; I never take a snow day for granted, that's for sure.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">And this one, this February 1st snow day, was extra special for me.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Just look how far we've come.&nbsp; </div><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;</div>http://www.rameelinlarson.com/2015/02/snow-day-2015.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (rameelin)0